


I'll Be Home For Christmas

by EveryDayBella



Series: More Than Just Saving the World [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Avengers Family, Canon-Typical Violence, Christmas fic, Clint Barton's Farm, F/M, Fluff, Kidfic, M/M, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, Tony Stark Has Daddy Issues, bucky and natasha kicking ass and taking names, bucky barnes is a stupid idiot, not AOU compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-05-07 04:18:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 25,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5443067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EveryDayBella/pseuds/EveryDayBella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The future, for Steven Grant Rogers-Barnes and James Buchanan Barnes-Rogers, comes with all kinds of firsts. Good ones, bad ones and great ones...and this Christmas? Their first Christmas together as a family, all three of them, all fifteen of them? It's the best one yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Silver Bells

**Author's Note:**

> I adore Christmas fic so here we are! Steve, Bucky, and Misha's first christmas. I can't promise that this will all be posted by christmas because life happens but it'll still be here. Enjoy!
> 
> And muchous love to Angelycdevil and MyHerion for all their help. Mwah!

**Chapter One**   
**Silver Bells**

 

 

Bucky's favorite part of Thanksgiving is after dinner, when everyone is drunk on tryptophan and the space is filled with a quiet, calm peace. There’s sweetness in the air, and pies in the oven. In the thirties there was a radio, swing,a comedian and plenty of laughter. These days, there's a football game on the tv, Sam and Clint taking bets on who will win, Tony muttering over a dismantled crock pot for god knows what reason, and Bucky is stretched over Steve's chest taking up an entire couch all to themselves, and Misha's quiet snores coming from the crook of Steve's arm.

Misha hadn't been knocked out by tryptophan. In fact, he'd flat out refused to touch his turkey, though he had liked the ham. Instead, he'd spent the waning hours of the afternoon rolling around on the floor with Lucky before crawling onto his father's couch and carving out his own space with them. He's been asleep for a couple of hours now, and Bucky figures they’ll have to wake him sooner rather than later, but he wants this sweet moment for just a little while longer.

So, of course, Clint ruins it for him.

“YES!” Clint jumps up to stand on the couch, fists in the air. “Cowboys win! Suck it, Wilson, and pay up.”

“Everyone knows the Giants are better.”

“Don’t be a baby. You owe me fifty bucks.”

“You still owe me two hundred from the last poker game.”

“Aw, money.”

In the midst of the commotion, Misha is jolted awake. He blinks his sleep deprived eyes balefully up at his father’s. Bucky holds back a chuckle at the miniature bitch face. Steve turns a glare that would scare Thanos himself on their friends. Even Lucky puts his ears back and tucks his nose under his paws. “Misha was asleep, Barton.”

“Aw, sorry Steve.” He jumps down from the couch looking properly chastised. “Sorry, Mish. You wanna come with me and see if there’s some pie ready?”

Clint holds out his hands and Misha grins at the mention of pie. He hasn’t started talking back yet, but he understands perfectly. Pie means chocolate, which they had when they made the filling the day before. Misha doesn’t spare them a backwards glance as Clint carries him toward the kitchen.

Bucky presses a giggle into Steve’s neck and feels Steve shake underneath him from his own laughter. “I think we know where we rate.” Steve snickers.

“Yeah, somewhere below pie,” Bucky agrees.

“Should we go follow them?” Steve asks, after a few moments while his hands ideally run up and down Bucky’s back. “Make sure he doesn’t eat too much?”

“Um.” Bucky curls closer, his nose squashed against the hollow where Steve’s neck met his shoulder. “In a minute.”

Steve chuckles and pats Bucky’s back in a way the brunette is sure to be meant as playfully condescending. “Anything for you, Bucky.”

“Damn right anything for me. Go get me a beer.”

That earns him a pinch in his side. “Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t because you’re on top of me and you’re heavy.”

“Steve it's not nice to call your man fat.”

“I did not call you fat, jerk.” Steve shoves Bucky until he’s sitting up, straddling Steve’s waist in a way that would mean trouble if they were somewhere private. “God, you’re more of a baby than our son is.”

“Steve, I hate to break it to you, but our son is not a baby anymore.”

Steve rolls his eyes and uses his legs to shove Bucky off the couch and into a crumpled heap on the floor. Bucky uses his metal arm to grab Steve’s arm and pull him down after him. They wrestle each other giggling, pinching, kicking, and using every dirty trick they had up their selves. It ends when Steve gets on top of Bucky and uses his weight to pin him down. “I win.”

“Fuck you.” Bucky laughs, going soft under Steve’s body because there is nothing better than his smile and his hair shining like a halo around him. “You cheated.”

Steve plants a wet kiss on Bucky’s neck before jumping off and offering Bucky a hand. “It’s not cheating if I win.”

“Whatever, punk.” Bucky lets himself be pulled to his feet and can’t help pinching his side as they walk toward the kitchen.

Misha is sitting at the kitchen table halfway through a slice of chocolate pie. Most of it is on his face and hands. He grins when he sees his daddies and offers up his sticky fingers. “Dada, chocwet!”

Bucky swoops in to kiss his cheek, coming away with a dusting of chocolate on his lips.

Steve takes the chair next to him, and Bucky realizes they’ve all gathered around the table. Pepper is perched on Tony’s lap, looking a little worse for ware. She’s been sick a lot with her pregnancy, but she isn’t letting that stop her either. She hasn’t worked any less or let Tony get away with any more than she usually does. Clint and Nat are both perched on the island, Bruce is reading a book, Pietro and Wanda are sitting at the table arguing about the best pie, and Sam is on Misha’s otherside. Thor is with Jane's family, and he’s the only one missing.

With an opportunity like that Bucky can’t pass it up. “I hate to break it to you,” he says snagging the half full pan of pumpkin pie and two forks. “But the best pie ever is Grandma Barnes pecan. You remember that, Stevie?”

Steve’s eyes widen as he takes a bite of the pumpkin pie Bucky has placed in front of them. “Oh god. Did anybody ever get the recipe for that?”

“Lost to time pal.” Bucky shakes his head. “Lost to time.”

“What was so special about this pie?” Pietro leans forward across the table, eyes gleaming and mischievous.

“I’m pretty sure his grandma broke into his pa’s liquor stash and dumped a bunch of whiskey into the pie.”

“No way.” Bucky turns to Steve surprised. “That’s what the flavor was?”

“Yep.” Steve nods, stealing a bite from Bucky’s side of the pie. “I caught her one year.”

“No shit.”

“And that’s why I got my first sip of whiskey when I was nine.”

Bucky leans down to play whisper into Misha’s ear, “Don’t get any ideas. You’re waiting ‘til you're forty.”

“Fifty,” Steve corrects.

“You are never going to let that kid have any fun.” Tony snickers. “Don’t worry Mish, I’ll take you out for your twenty-first.”

“Oh, no you will not.” Steve grows a little green before masterfully shoving another bite of pie into his mouth. “You are not allowed with a hundred feet of him when he gets that old. I’ll get a restraining order.”

“Please.” Tony rolls his eyes and smirks. “If you had your way, he wouldn’t do anything till he was too old to do anything.”

“Tell me that again when you have your own,” Bucky mutters just loud enough to be heard on the other side of the of the table.

Tony wisely shuts up after that.

The argument about pie turns into an argument about the best holidays. Natasha claims Holloween, even though there is no pie. Bucky agrees with her. Steve likes Thanksgiving, but Clint is the one who finally brings up Christmas.

“What? I may have been a runway, but even the circus celebrates Christmas.”

“How does the circus do Christmas?” Bucky can’t decide if Sam is genuinely curious, or a little worried for Clint’s health.

“Mostly, a butt load of cheap alcohol. But that’s how the circus celebrates everything.”

“Sounds like fun.” Tony pipes up with a snicker. “Not sure anyone would go for it these days, but there would have been a time I could drink you under the table.”

“You keep telling yourself that Stark.” Clint then then leans into Natasha’s space and faux whispers, “He’s such a rube.”

Natasha pats his cheek like he’s a good puppy. “Now, now, be nice to our fearless leader. He’s not as young as he once was.”

“Oh, is that how it's gonna be? See if I let you people have Christmas in my house.”

“You'd never kick us out, Tony.” Steve smirks while cleaning Misha’s sticky fingers. “You have to do all the Avenging yourself, and we know how well that would go over. Besides you love us too much.”

“Hey, I have an idea!” Clint jumps down from the island, bouncing on his toes like an excited, aforementioned puppy. Bucky has to actively remind himself that Clint’s as much a stone cold killer as he is. “What if we spent Christmas at my farm?”

“You have a farm?” Pietro voices all of their surprise. Sure, Bucky knew about the farm and took great joy about teasing Clint for it, but he’d never seen it. As far as he knew, none of them had, except perhaps Nat.

“Yes, knucklehead, I have a farm. Used to be in the family, but I got it back. It’s out in the middle of nowhere. Just a lot of trees and space. It should be fun at least. Maybe. I don’t know. I forget, you’re all a bunch of city boys.”

“Hey.” Bucky starts in mock outrage and then shrugs. “No, you’re right. I didn’t even leave Brooklyn until I was twenty.”

“See, the kid doesn’t deserve the same fate as you.” Clint opens up his hands and offers them to Misha, who gladly lets himself be pulled from the highchair. “It’s your first Christmas. You gotta be somewhere where we can test the limits of your Dad’s shield as a sled.”

“Already did.” Steve stops until he realizes that he has an undivided audience. “What? We were in the Alps, the Commandos were bored. He was my sargeant. What else do I have to say?”

“Absolutely nothing.” Sam shakes his head in amusement while Tony demands the full story. Steve and Bucky bicker over who can tell it the right way, and then they makes plans for Christmas at Clint’s farm.

 

So, of course, the week before Christmas, Bucky would get called out on a mission.

“I don’t wanna go.” He whines while Steve helps him snap into his tactical gear. It had been the week after Thanksgiving since his skills had been needed and had been hoping his luck would run through the New Year at least. They were supposed to heading to the farm in the morning, but now he’s supposed to be heading to the roof to get on the quinjet.

There are days when he really hates his job.

“It’ll be fine.” Steve tries to soothe but he’s a terrible liar and can’t hide the slight hitch of apprehension in his voice. “Coulson said it wouldn’t be hard for you two. You’ll have this wrapped up in plenty of time.”

“We’re infiltrating an AIM base. The craziest of the crazies go to AIM. God knows what we’re going to find there.”

“Stop over-inflating this, ya big jerk.” Steve grabs one of the gun straps on the front of Bucky’s gear and pulls him in close until Bucky can feel the shadow of his heat against his lips. “You’ll take care of this, and then you’ll come home. It’s our first Christmas as a family, and you won’t miss it, understand? I won’t allow it. The universe owes us this.”

Always so optimistic, his Steve. Bucky smirks and places his arms around Steve’s waist, holding on tightly for the moment and feeling his heart stop racing. It’s amazing how just holding on to Steve can do that for him. “You’re right, of course. I would never dare argue with Captain America.”

“Oh, shut it.” Steve rolls his eyes and sighs like he’s tired of putting up with Bucky’s shit. “You wake up arguing with me, you go to bed arguing with me, and you do it plenty of times during the day. You’re angelic face isn’t going to get you very far with me, sweetheart.”

“I thought you loved my angelic face?” Bucky flutters his outrageously long lashes, pouts his lips invitingly, and holds him all the tighter. “Admit it, babydoll, you love everything about me.”

“Most days.” Steve kisses him, and it’s meant to be teasing and condescending, but Bucky melts into him, and there’s not a small of amount of desperation on Steve’s side either. Steve let his fingers slide into Bucky’s hair, pulling the knot that he’d just placed there. Bucky’s hands are hard and bruising against Steve’s waist, clinging and marking while he can. There’s no space, no air between them, and all they can do is hold on for all the times they can’t.

When Bucky pulls away Steve’s, eyes are still closed, still lost in the sweet haze that they make together. Bucky can’t help cupping his cheeks, feeling his soft skin underneath his fingertips, the warmth that his body made. Bucky is always in awe of Steve, always has been, but this is his favorite sweet, soft, and just so beautiful. His blue eyes slide open and there’s a lazy smile on his lips. “That’s not a nice kiss to leave a fella with, Bucky.”

“Just take it as a promise, babydoll.” He kisses him again, sweet and lazy before pulling away completely while he still has the willpower to do so. “You and Misha go ahead and head to the farm tomorrow. I’ll come straight there when we finish this up.”

“I don’t want to go without you.” Steve pouts as if that’ll make a difference.

Bucky pats his cheek and shoulders his rifle. “I know Stevie, but he’ll love it. Send me pictures.”

“Always.” Steve holds the bedroom door open and they walk shoulder to shoulder down the hall. Misha is resting in Natasha’s arms, who’s also in her combat gear, and he reaches for Bucky as soon as he sees him.

Bucky takes him on his arm, smoothing a dark curl of hair off his forehead. “You take care of Daddy for me, okay, принц? Don’t let him do anything stupid. I love you, and I’ll be back before you know it.”

Misha patts Bucky’s cheeks with his chubby hands and laughs a little before settling his head onto Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky knows if he lets himself, he would never move from this spot. So he eases Misha into Steve’s arms and would swear they share the exact same pout. “I’m sorry, принц. I’ve got to go. I’ll see you soon, okay? I won’t miss Christmas. Promise.”

Bucky leans down to brush a kiss to Misha’s forehead, and then comes up to kiss Steve passionately once more, before letting Natasha pull him from them.

“I promise, I’ll get him home for Christmas,” She vows somully.

Steve nods. “I know you will. Keep him safe for me.”

“I don’t need protection.”

Natasha smirks. “Of course I will.” The last glimpse Bucky gets of them before the door shuts on is Steve holding Misha’s hands and showing him how to wave.


	2. It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MERRY CHRISTMAS!

** Chapter Two **

**It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year**

 

 

“Misha, I will admit to no one else but you, we should have just taken a quinjet.” Misha giggles from his car seat in the back of the sedan. “Don’t tell Papa for me, okay?”

 

Their original plan was for them all to drive from New York to Iowa, which is only about a nine hours drive. They were going to have fun and enjoy themselves a little. Maybe stop in Philadelphia for a cheesecake, but then Bucky had gotten called out on a mission. Maybe with the two of them it would have been a better drive, but with just him and Misha, it turned out to be long, hard, and Steve had gotten lost.

 

It isn’t his fault the back roads of the Iowa countryside aren't marked.

 

Steve looks back at his phone again, wishing the GPS worked out there. It would be better than following Clint’s instructions at least. “What do you mean turn right by the gas station, and then left at the cow stand? I haven’t seen a gas station in fifty miles!”

 

Misha giggles again, and Steve smiles at him through the rearview window. “Next time you see your Uncle Clint, you have my full permission to sneeze on him.”

 

The phone in his hand begins to ring. “Speak of the devil. Yes, Clint?”

 

“I thought you guys were supposed to be here by three?”

 

“I would have been there already if your directions made any sense.”

 

“Aw, maps.” Clint whined. “Okay, you turned at the gas station?”

 

“Clint, I haven’t seen a gas station since Mary gave birth to Jesus .”

 

“No need to get snotty, Cap.”

 

Steve sighs, takes a deep breath, and reminds himself that just because he’s frustrated doesn’t mean he can take it out on the archer. “No, Clint. You’re right. Just help me figure out where I am and how I get to you.”

 

“Is there a big red barn on the right just in front of you?”

 

Steve peers out the windshield, looking for and finding a large, scarlet building. “Yes.”

 

“Okay, go straight for a quarter of a mile, turn left just past the barn, go straight till you cross the bridge, turn right at the mile mark, and then go straight till you reach the house.”

 

“Barton, I swear to god,” Steve mutters as he drives past the barn according to Clint’s insane instructions.

 

“What? I think you got lost just like Nat the first time she came up here. I had to give her the same instructions. You don’t have any Russian relatives, do you?”

 

“Goodbye, Barton.” Steve hangs up the phone, but takes a minute to make sure there aren’t any new messages before he puts it down. He hasn’t heard from Bucky since he left the night before, and it's starting to sound warning bells in his  mind. He almost calls Clint to see if he’s heard from Natasha, but he restrains himself. He’s more than likely worrying about nothing. Bucky will just laugh at him if he overreacted.

 

Misha babbles in the backseat as they drive down slowly darkening roads. He’s reminded of the horror movies Bucky loves to laugh at. The ones with the group of teenagers who make increasingly stupid decisions and end up surprised that they’re all being chased through the woods by an ax murderer. Bucky had tried to talk Steve into letting him go trick or treating as Jason. Steve had put his foot down since they were taking Misha. Bucky still made him watch horror movies after they put Misha to bed.

 

Steve glances into the rear view mirror again, watching as Misha bounces a stuffed green dinosaur across the confines of his car seat. Sam had given it to him for his birthday back in October, and he had been attached ever since. He drags it to bed with him every night, to every floor of the Tower he ends up on, even into Tony’s lab. After he’d taken it to the park a few weeks ago and gotten it dirty, Bucky had tried to put it in the washing machine. Misha had screamed when the thing was out of his sight. He had to bring it out and wash it where Misha could watch.

 

Misha had been similar this morning. After he remembered that his Papa wasn't home, he started sobbing as Steve packed the car. He’d begged for his Papa, and then Steve had to explain to him several times that Bucky would know where to find them when he got done working. He’d finally calmed down a little during the drive, but he’d clung to that poor stuffed dinosaur’s neck the whole time. Steve figures he will feel better when they get to the house and he’s distracted by his aunts and uncles.

 

Which also means that Steve will have built in babysitters, so he can finish Bucky’s Christmas present. It was homemade, because that was all they used to be able to afford. They had kept it up here because they had the money and nothing they really wanted. They bought Misha plenty of presents, Steve personally thought they might have gone a little bit overboard, but he and Bucky are gonna be a little bit old fashioned.

 

So long as he could get it done.

 

Just like Clint promised, the road widens into what Steve instantly recognizes as Clint’s front lawn. There are several cars and a truck already sitting in the front, and Clint is manning a grill on the front porch. Steve smiles and calls back to the one year old sitting in the back seat, “We’re here, Misha. You ready to get out?”

 

“Yes!” Misha screams in excitement, straining to peer out the windows. “Papa?”

 

“No, Papa’s not here, kiddo. He’ll be here soon. Okay?”

 

For a moment, he thinks that Misha is going to cry, but then he nods with his bottom lip trembling. “Call?”

 

“We’ll see, bud.” Steve climbs out of the car and opens the back door to unbuckle Misha. As he pulls the boy into his arms, he tells him, “We have to make sure it's safe for him, Misha.”

 

“K.” He sighs and snuggles into Steve’s shoulder. “I miss Papa.”

 

“I know, pal. It’s hard, but Papa and Aunt Natasha are gonna go save the world, and then they’ll be back, all right?”

 

Misha nods and snuggles back into his embrace. “It’s snot fair.”

 

“I know.” Steve sighs and stands back up straight, lifting him onto his arm. “Papa misses you too, you know?”

 

Misha nods, and then lightens up when he catches sight of Lucky running across the yard. “Wucky!”

 

“Yep. Let’s go play.” Distraction is always guaranteed to work with Misha. “You know if you’d learn to walk you would be able to chase after him yourself.”

 

Misha laughs and instead kicks his feet to be put down. “No. You’re not getting into the grass until you can walk. God knows what your Uncle Clint as hiding out here.”

 

“That’s certified grade A grass in my yard, Rogers,” Clint says since they’re close enough now to be overheard.

 

“I don’t think they certify grass, Clint.” Bruce shakes his head. Steve suspects Banner isn’t as clueless as he sometimes seems.

 

“They do it just for me. You get down and dirty with it, Mish.” Misha smirks and kicks again.

 

“Nope, I’ll let you down on the porch.” Steve does so, and the boy crawls for Pepper, who’s sitting with Wanda on one of the lawn chairs. “He gets in the grass, you’re cleaning him up Barton.”

 

“Whatever, City Cap.” Clint banishes his spatula like a knife because he’s a dork and has no self control without Natasha around. “How do you want your burger?”

 

“Rare,” he answers as he takes a beer from Sam. “Wasn’t I promised shield sledding?”

 

“I don’t control the weather.” Clint pouts, poking a hot dog and scowling at the snowless yard. “Why doesn’t one of us control the weather?”

 

“I’ve never tried,” Wanda muses, an evil grin beginning to spread across her face. “That might be fun.”

 

“I’m pretty sure we mess with the laws of nature enough.” Steve hates being the voice of reason. Hates it. If he had his way, he would be encouraging reckless behaviour.

 

Speaking of reckless behaviour. “Where is Tony?”

 

“In the barn. I don’t know what’s he’s doing. Call it a Christmas present.”

 

“If he burns my barn down, you’re paying for it, Pepper. I can’t promise you’ll have a significant other to go home with you.”

 

“Please. You’d never leave a pregnant women without the baby's father.”

 

“Pretty sure you don’t need him, Pep.” Sam interjects as he takes a seat next to Steve on the porch step.

 

“Pretty sure you’re right, Sam.”

 

Misha, who by now has wormed his way onto Pepper’s lap, pats her belly very softly and asks, “Baby?”

 

“He was concerned the whole ride up here about ‘Pep and Wony’s’ baby.” Steve can’t help it if smiles a bit too widely or a bit too proudly. That’s his son after all.

 

“Oh.” Pepper’s eyes widen for a moment before she smiles and pats Misha’s hand over her belly. “Yes, the baby is just fine. Were you afraid that she’d disappear just because we left New York?”

 

Misha nods and holds his dinosaur a little bit closer.

 

“She’s not going anywhere, I promise.” Pepper assures him and Misha nods and climbs down from her lap. He crawls to Steve, and lets his Daddy hold him tightly against his chest.

 

“I think he’s really missing Bucky,” Steve confides to Sam over Misha’s dark head.

 

“That’s understandable. Bucky’s been gone a lot the last couple of months.”

 

Steve shrugs, concedes the point, and then speaks softly enough that he’s sure only Sam will hear him. “Bucky’s been going too much. I don’t understand why he’s first one called out every time someone needs a damn shadow.”

 

“He’s good at his job. You can’t hold that against him.” Sam shrugs, holding out a hand to let Misha play with his fingers. “Plus, you and I both know that he still feels like he has to atone for what he did as the Winter Soldier. That adds into it and the fact that he and Natasha work well together.”

 

“Natasha and Clint work well together, too. He could do most of the missions Bucky gets sent out on.” Steve shakes his head and regrets his words instantly.”That’s not fair, I know.”

 

“Not fair, still valid. You’re worried he's not going to be here Christmas, aren’t you?”

 

Steve shrugs and after he releases Misha, so he can go crawl after Lucky, he nods.

 

“Don’t worry, Cap. If there is one thing I know, it's that Nat and Bucky are a force of nature when they set minds to something. Bucky will be home. No doubt about it. You just gotta relax and enjoy this. Fresh air should do us all good.”

 

It’s Steve’s experience that relaxing is always better said than done. 

  
0      0      0

 

Paris is a beautiful city. It had been beautiful in nineteen forty four, and it’s still beautiful seventy years later. The city sparkles like a diamond set out on black velvet. Each building carries its own luminescence. It’s somewhere between old world charm and modern sophistication. It bustles and moves with a rhythm all its own like any great city that had been built. Sometimes grand, sometimes exatic, sometimes strange, and sometimes dirty. 

 

Bucky just wishes he had time to enjoy it.

 

“James.” Natasha is across the ballroom wrapped in delicate red lace and four inch stilettos. She’s a vision, and Bucky isn’t the only red blooded man in the room. “I’ve been asked to go to the back. If I’m not back in five...”

 

“...come back and get you. I got it.”

 

“I’m sure you won’t have the chance.” He caught her challenging grin from across the dance floor. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

 

While being sure to keep an eye on how long it’s been since Natasha disappeared, Bucky scouts out his own target. This pretty young thing is dressed in a tight, black dress that exposes long expanse of creamy brown skin. If Bucky hadn’t been a married man, and he hadn’t known exactly who this woman was, he would have gladly spent some time getting to know her. As it is, he turns up the charm, swipes a glass of champagne, and approaches her.

 

“Mademoiselle.” He bows a little at the waist, smirking all the while. “Pourrais-je offrir une boisson à un tel charmante, dame?”

 

“Oui.” Her voice holds a deep, rich timber, succulent and inviting. Anyone not as well trained as Bucky would have fallen for it in an instant. He might have felt sorry for them. She takes the glass from his hands, careful not to touch his skin as she does so. She takes a sip, and Bucky lets his eyes wander to the way her throat tightens as she swallows. She lowers her glass and smiles at him- sweet as molasses. “But you are not French, are you?”

 

“What gave me away?” He chuckles self deprecatingly, as if he hasn’t given himself away on purpose.

 

“Your accent. It’s very good, do not misunderstand me, but there is still something just a little bit American in it.”

 

“Well, I tried.” He lets the Brooklyn slip back into his mouth a little, all part of the game again. “Perhaps you could give me some pointers?”

 

“I’m afraid I wouldn’t be a very good teacher.” She sighs, and Bucky fights the urge to roll his eyes. She’s as subtle as a stick in the eye. “Though, perhaps, if you really wanted to.”

 

Bucky offers his arm, which she in turn grips gently. “What do you say we go somewhere a little more private?”

 

She follows, enthralled, as he leads them around a corner to a darkened spot of the palace close to where he knows Natasha is. He has a minute and a half to finish up here before he needs to go find his partner.

 

As if she knows this too, she swings a knife for his head as soon they’re somewhere private. The ducking is easy, and then striking out with his fist for her abdomen to punch the air out of her. She, not unsurprisingly, dodges and rolls to the side coming up in a crouch before lashing out for his head. Rather than dodging this time, he grabs her wrist with his metal fingers and twists until he can feel bone snap. She’s screams as the pain knocks her out, and he’s able to twist her flat on her back and land with a knee in her stomach.

 

“A true Black Widow,” Bucky growls as he rips off his tie and places her hands together. “Would never have let pain stop her. Great job, AIM.”

 

“Vas te faire encule.” She spit.

 

“Language.” He chuckles and stuffs a gag in her mouth. “Sorry, but we need to be able to get away. Thank you, mademoiselle.”

 

She screams behind him, leaving garbled curses his wake.

 

Bucky for his part, shrugs and follows the hallway around a corner. One guard tries to stop him, who he easily dispatches with an elbow shoved sharply into his neck. He’s half hoping that he’ll get to show off for Natasha, if only because getting one up on her happens so rarely.

 

On the other hand, getting to watch her work her magic is a privilege not many get to see. A body is suddenly shoved through a closed door, splinters of wood and nails going everywhere. The guard groans when he lands on the floor, rolls over, and doesn’t get up. Bucky snickers and looks inside the room to find Natasha fixing the lining of her dress.

 

“Subtle,” he remarks with a smirk.

 

“Efficient,” she corrects while carefully stepping over broken glass and splinters of wood. “How was the woman?”

 

“AIM doesn’t know how to make Black Widows.” Bucky snickers as they push their way to the front of the building and walk out into the cold Parisian air. Bucky admits they must be an odd pair, walking through the streets in nice clothes better designed for ballrooms. They both bleed danger into the air around them. “All I had to do was break her wrist.”

 

“Pathetic.” Natasha growls as if she’s personally offended. “Still, that's a good sign. I got the location of the base, and if they’re that weak, we should be able to defeat them easily and get back home.”

 

“Thank god. I am not missing my son's first Christmas.”

 

“Let’s just head back to the base and plan.”

 

Base is a shitty apartment, with one disgusting bed and a good view. The good view isn’t the only good part. It’s also very discreet. They weren’t asked any questions when they paid for a month's rent upfront. No one cared that they had moved in with only a bag between them. It’s perfect for two spies to use as a hide out.

 

“Home sweet home,” Natasha mutters as the door creeks open. It smells like urine, sweat, and god knows what else. Bucky tries not to think about it.

 

Natasha goes straight for a map they have spread out on a rickety table. She grabs a red marker, studies the map for a moment, before lashing out and drawing a circle. “There. That’s where the base is at. High security. Multiple levels. Not going to be easy to get inside.”

 

Bucky hums, leaning over her shoulder and musing. The place is a straight line outside of Paris. He doesn’t doubt his and Natasha’s skills, but it is going to be a bit more than a two person job. “We’re gonna need some help.”

 

“I have some contacts that owe me favors.” Natasha straightens up and moves to the side. “They won’t talk to me til’ morning.”

 

“We’ll need to keep an eye out and make sure no one followed us from the party.”

 

She shrugs one shoulder delicately, “Probably a good idea. I’m going to take a shower, though. You should call your boys. They’ll be wanting to hear from you.”

 

Bucky’s heart jumps in his chest at the thought of calling and making sure they’re okay. All day he’s been going out of his mind wondering if they made it to Iowa okay, wondering if they got in an accident or lost, whether they’re happy. Bucky misses Steve and Misha something fierce. He yearns to be home with them, not in an disgusting apartment in the south of Paris, planning a covert attack, watching Natasha’s back, trying not to think about what may have happened in this room in the past. He wants Steve and Misha in his arms where they’re safe. That’s what he lives for.

 

Calling them would mean that he and Natasha could be at risk. If he wants to go home safe and sound, then he isn’t sure he can risk that. “Some one, say AIM, could trace the call back here. We can’t risk that. I’ll just text Steve and let him know that we’re safe.”

 

“James.” Natasha waits until Bucky looks up at him, her green eyes stern and steady. “Call him. You’ll be happier if you do. Hopefully after tomorrow, we won’t even need this place. And if you don’t, you’ll be grouchy tomorrow, and I’m not putting up with you. Call them.”

 

“You're sure?”

 

“Yes. Now I’m taking a shower. I’ll give you a little while.”

 

“You’re the best, Natalia.”

 

“You owe me, James,” is the last thing he hears before the door is shut.

 

Bucky pulls out his phone and at the same time he turns on the computer.

 

_Call incoming as soon as I turn on the computer. - B_

 

Steve replies seconds later.

 

_We’ll be waiting. - S_

 

That just makes him work fast. It’s been twenty four hours since he talked to his boys and, even though it’ll be a little bit longer till he gets to hold and kiss them again, he needs this. He needs to hear their voices, needs to hear Misha babble excitedly on the screen, and Steve tell him about their day. Those normal, sweet, wonderful things that he has waiting at home. That’s what he needs.

 

Bucky’s fingers tremble as they type in commands, bringing up menus and securing the line as much as he can. He’s a pretty good hacker, but he still spares a passing wish for Daisy Johnson’s skills. It’s been too long since he’s seen that kid. He’s always liked her.

 

Finally, the window opens and Bucky is connecting to Steve’s computer halfway around the world. The wait is excruciating until the screen brightens and Steve is smiling at him. Bucky relaxes into his hard chair, already feeling miles better just because he has Steve and the kitchen background of Clint’s house. “Hey baby,” Steve greets widely, waving like a dork.

 

Bucky snorts and waves back. “Bonjour, mi amor.” Bucky always enjoys the way Steve’s eyes darken predatorily anytime he speaks anything but English. Steve has the strangest kinks. “How’s the farm? Did you get lost?”

 

Through the image is grainy, Bucky can still see the way Steve rolls his eyes as if insulted. Bucky would have to remind him that Steve is the one who got the Commandos lost on the way to Berlin. When the road was clearly marked, _this way Berlin._ “It was Clint’s stupid directions. How was I supposed to know which grain silo to turn right at? There’s only hundreds of them out here.”

 

“You’ve been there before, ya jerk.”

 

“I came on a quinjet, and I’d just had a Wanda inspired hallucination. Forgive me if I wasn’t paying attention.” Steve pouts, which Bucky doesn’t think is very fair because he can’t kiss, nibble, and suck on those sweet red lips. Bucky makes a mental note to ask why Fitz hasn’t invented a teleporter yet. “Anyway, how’s Paris? Any different than the last time we were there?”

 

“Yeah, Steve, only seventy years have passed. I’m sure there’s a lot different. “ Bucky chuckles while Steve scowls at him. Egging him on like this is too much fun. “Actually, it’s weird. Some parts of it are very much the same. I mean, it’s not torn apart by war any more, but people still can’t drive, and some parts of it feel very old. Everything still smells like croissants in the morning.”

 

“Muumm.” Steve moans, obscenely and Bucky has to shift a little in his seat. “ _Croissants._ Bring me some if you get the chance?”

 

“Always knew the way to your heart was through your stomach, baby doll.”

 

“Don’t butter me up.” Steve smirks and winks, before his face falls and becomes more sober. “Are you and Natasha okay? Safe?”

 

“Yeah, we’re fine, Stevie.” Bucky sighs and pulls his hair out of its neat ponytail. Steve’s breath becomes sharp and shallow in reaction for that. “We already know where the base is, so that’s good. Natasha is calling in backup in the morning. We’ll clean up this mess, and then come home. Should be there by Christmas Eve.”

 

“Good.” Steve nods, apparently satisfied with the report. “Is AIM really trying to make their own Black Widows?”

 

“Yep. They suck though. I broke one's wrist and she went down like a sack of potatoes.”

 

“Clearly not up to par.”

 

“Course not, they don’t have me.”

 

Steve groans and shakes his head. “Ugh, don’t remind me please. I still think it’s weird that you trained Natasha.”

 

“Bit more than trained, Steve.” Bucky leers, just to piss his husband off.

 

“Really? You’re going to bring that up now?”

 

“Ah, baby doll, you know it’s not like that now.”

 

“Shut up. You’re a damn flirt, Barnes.” Steve chuckles.

 

“You always liked it when I flirted with you, Rogers.”

 

There it is. That half pleased, half annoyed, half embarrassed blush that creeps up Steve’s cheeks when he ducks his head like that; like he doesn’t quite believe what Bucky has just said but appreciates it anyway. It’s one of Bucky Barnes’ favorite looks on Steve Rogers.

 

“Shut up, jerk,” he mutters.

 

“Love you, Stevie.” Bucky admits softly, no amount of teasing in his voice. This is just the raw, honest to god truth. He loves Steve enough to break through decades of brainwashing, enough to call him back from the dead. There is everything in his whole world summed up in three stupid little words. I love you.

 

“Love you, too.” Steve says it back just as heartfelt and honest as Steve had first admitted it to him. For a moment or two, all they can do is stare at each other through the grainy screen, like two dopes with nothing better to do.

 

“I’ll be home soon, I promise.” Bucky admits, softly, like the more he speaks the words, the truer they’ll become. He just needs to be home. He’s desperate for it, needs it more than he can remember ever needing it before. Secretly, Bucky has always been a bit of a home body but he’s never been so afraid of missing something before. What if Misha starts walking while they’re gone? What if he gets hurt? What if he doesn’t recognize him when he makes it home? Misha changes so much every day, and Bucky doesn’t want to miss anything. It might drive him to distraction, but he doesn’t care. He just needs it.

 

“Misha’s been asking for you all day,” Steve tells him which only pierces his heart with a thousand sharp, little knives. “I think he thought you were going to be here when we got to the farm. He had a hard time for a little bit.”

 

“Is he okay, now?”

 

“Yeah, he’s alright. Been playing with Lucky, and Thor got here and you know how he loves Thor.”

 

Bucky snorts because yes he does. Thor is almost as much a child as Misha is. Thor is always up for a game of tag, hide and seek, or play fighting. Steve has told Bucky that he thinks playing with Misha reminds Thor of the good times the god had spent with his wayward brother . Bucky doesn’t know how to feel about that, but Thor is a good with Misha, and Bucky isn’t about to complain. Misha adores him, and that’s all that matters.

 

“I’m not sure who loves each other more, Thor or Misha?”

 

“It’s a pretty even divide, I think.” Steve chuckles. “Hold on tight, I’ll go get him.”

 

Steve disappears, and Bucky tries not to let the Steveless screen get to him. He grabs a jacket from the chair next to him, though he isn’t sure if he’s really tired or just missing the source of his warmth.

 

Steve is gone less than five minutes before he’s back with a smiling cherub in his arms. “Look who it is, Misha.” Steve points at the screen, and Misha’s pale blue eyes light up. “Look who came to see us.”

 

“Papa! Papa! Papa! Papa!” Misha squeals with excitement, straining out of Steve’s arms and reaching with his chubby hands for Bucky’s picture.

 

“Hey принц,” Bucky waves and melts when Misha reaches again for Bucky. He wishes more than anything that there were a way to reach through the screen and hold his baby, just for a moment. “You being a good boy for Daddy?”

 

Misha nods, though Bucky isn’t convinced that he really knows what Bucky asks. He smacks his hand down on the computer and then grins in excitement. Bucky snickers and, because he can’t figure out what to do with his hands, waves again.

 

“Do you like Uncle Clint’s farm?”

 

Misha giggles and Steve speaks up to explain. “Tell Papa you met a chicken.”

 

“Did you meet a chicken?” Bucky begins hoping that Steve took pictures with his phone.

 

“Say yep,” Steve says while Misha just grins and reaches for the camera again. “It was a mean chicken and nearly pecked my finger off.”

 

“Does Papa need to shoot the chicken?”

 

“Bucky!” Steve admonishes with a smile.

 

“What? Nothing hurts my son, I don’t care if you are a chicken. See if I don’t go after Barton, too, for having a mean chicken .”

 

Steve chuckles, rolls his eyes, and settles Misha back in his lap. “I was right there, Bucky. Nothing was going to happen to him.”

 

“Don’t care.” Bucky smiles again and reaches for Misha to regain his attention. “Better yet, I’ll teach you to wring its neck and show it what happens when you mess with a Barnes-Rogers.”

 

“Bucky.” Steve sighs.

 

“What? We can make fried chicken with it like my Ma’s. It’s not a waste.”

 

Steve throws his head back in a laugh as warm as it is sweet. Misha joins him, and it's like music to Bucky’s ears. He watches the long column of Steve’s throat, the dimples on Misha’s cheeks and feels better, more centered, than he has all day. Even though he’s not right next to them where he would like to be, this is good too. He can see they’re happy, he can go make sure they safe, and then he gets to go and be with them. That’s all he really wants in this world.

 

Misha yawns widely and Bucky remembers the time difference. “You’ve had a busy day, Misha. Bed time?”

 

Misha shakes his head and of course he understands bedtimes. When he reaches for the computer again with a sweet distraught look, Bucky’s heart shatters. “Papa.”

 

“I can’t put you to bed tonight принц. Daddy has to do it.” Misha’s lips tremble, his eyes filling with tears, and Bucky has to do something before Misha can wail and there’s nothing he can do about it. “Here look.” Bucky kisses his finger tips and then blows the kiss to Misha. The boy at least appears entranced with Bucky’s actions. “See, I blew you a kiss.”

 

Steve shows Misha how to blow one back, and Bucky mimes catching it and putting it in his pocket. It makes Misha happy. “I’ll talk to you soon, okay принц ?”

 

Misha waves and Steve says, “Sleep well, and I love you, Bucky.”

 

“Wuv, Papa.”

 

Bucky melts. He’s the first one Misha has ever said love to. “I love you, Misha. Both of you.”

 

The connection goes dead just a few minutes latter and Bucky sinks back into his chair, scrubbing his hand over his bristly cheeks. Home. He needs to go home. He needs to hold them both close to his chest and feel them breath. They need need to know how much he loves them.

 

And maybe one day he’ll bring them to Paris with him .

 

 


	3. It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that Christmas is over, HERE'S MORE CHRISTMAS! LOL Enjoy guys.

** Chapter Three **

**It’s Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas**

 

Steve is sliding the com unit into his ear as he walks back down the stairs. Of course he would leave the baby monitor in Misha’s room back in New York. Fortunately, Clint has com units all over the house, so he’s just borrowed on.

 

Walking into the living room, he doesn’t find anyone. Wandering into the kitchen, he finds his teammates gathered around the kitchen table. Sam is shuffling cards while the others finish getting snacks and drinks. He looks up when Steve stops in the doorway and waves him over. “Come on, Steve. Avengers only game of poker. House rules still apply.”

 

Avengers Tower House Rules are simple. Pietro is not allowed to run around the table and see their cards. Wanda isn’t allowed read their minds. Weapons of all kinds are forbidden. Thor is not allowed to call down thunder if he loses a hand. That  had happened only once. It wasn’t pretty. Tinkering isn’t allowed at the table after that one time Tony almost set the cards on fire. Basically, their superpowers aren’t allowed and there is an unwritten agreement that you don’t piss off Bruce. Otherwise, like everything the Avengers did, it's a free for all where loyalties are tested and friendships are broken.

 

Steve takes a chair next to Sam and is unsurprised when Thor takes his other side. “The princeling went to sleep easily?”

 

“Yeah.” Steve pulls out his wallet and drops a five on the table as the others all take their own seats. He wishes he understood why Bucky and Thor have both begun calling Misha their own versions of prince . They’re hardly kings. Steve still sometimes felt like he barely has his head over the water. “It's been a long day and he’s tired. Thanks for letting me borrow the unit, Clint.”

 

Clint shrugs and studies his newly dealt cards. “Whatever ,man. He’s a year old. Aren’t you past the keeping a constant eye on him stage?”

 

“Considering our jobs and the kind of enemies we’ve made? No. Tony, where the hell did you get that thing?”

 

“This?” Tony points the green visor sitting on his forehead like an oddly colored duck bill. “Someplace called a dollar store .”

 

Steve rolls his eyes while a few others snigger. “I think we just called that a store during the Depression.”

 

“Oh no.” Clint groans, throwing his head back. “I thought since Bucky wasn’t here we wouldn’t get any ‘when I was your age’ stories. Can we add that to the House Rules?”

 

“The House Rules aren’t there to hinder someone's personality, Clint.” Sam smirks. He always has Steve’s back.

 

“What about me?” Patrio complains.

 

“You’re personality is not being squelched,” Wanda points out. “You cheat.”

 

“Bit rich coming from “I see with my third eye.’” Tony snickers.

 

“That wasn’t cheating; it was just a tactical advantage.”

 

“Tactical advantage. I’m texting that to Bucky. He’ll get a kick out of it.”

 

“Especially since he was the one she got a grand off of.” Sam laughs.

 

The ribbing continues for a while as they play out a few hands. Steve losses twenty bucks, Sam picks up a few, and Tony complains about his second House Rule. He’s not allowed to put in more money than any of the others can put in. _Earth's Mightiest Heroes,_ Steve muses. _Also, Earths Strangest Poker Club._

 

“Hey, Clint,” Tony remarks while Wanda shuffles cards without using her hands. “It’s Christmas, where’s your tree?”

 

“What tree?”

 

“You’re christmas tree. You know with the lights and bright colored things.”

 

“You mean ornaments?” Sam asks with a snicker.

 

“Yeah, those things.” Tony snaps his fingers.

 

“He has a point you know,” Bruce speaks up. “It's Misha’s first American Christmas, and your place is not very Christmasy.”

 

“Aw, come on.” Clint groans. “I invited you guys to spend a few days, not to critique my decorating. Besides, Natasha was supposed to handle that, but she called to the field.”

 

“Not a good excuse, man.” Sam steps up to his son's potential dishonor, and it's frankly adorable. “We have one day before Christmas Eve. If we can save the world from Hydra in twenty four hours, then we can make this place look like Santa Claus throw up in it in the same amount of time.”

 

“Wonderful imagery, Wilson,” Tony mutters.

 

Wanda chimes in with, “I really wouldn’t mind trying to control the weather. Testing myself could be fun.”

 

“Wanda, when trying to control the weather is how you test yourself, you got bigger issues.” Clint looks like he might be sick. 

 

“You just wish you were as awesome as I am.”

 

“One arrow, lady. I knocked out your powers with one arrow.”

 

“A lucky shot.”

 

“Luck, my ass.”

 

“Anyway.” Steve interjects before their argument can go any farther. “Christmas, what do we need?”

 

“A tree.” Sam starts.

 

“Lights.” Tony adds.

 

“Aw, snow.”

 

“What are those deer things called ?”

 

“Reindeer?”

 

“Yes, reindeer, and one of them needs a red nose.”

 

“I most likely could engineer that.”

 

“Tony, no.”

 

It goes on like that, round and round until Steve is confused and more than a little lost. Somehow a list is made of all the things that they need. The list is then divided between people and who can do what job. Somehow, Steve and Misha end up going with Thor, Jane, and Vision into the woods to pick a tree.

 

Steve is still very confused by his life somedays.

 

* * *

 

Misha is bundled up in a blue and red fleece coat with a hood that dwarfs his face. There’s also a scarf and little baby mittens that Bucky had thought were the cutest things he’d ever seen. He has boots that are so heavy, Steve doesn’t think he could walk in them if he tried. The end result is a little, vaguely Misha shaped marshmallow resting on Steve’s arm as they head off into the woods that surround Clint’s property. Misha and Jane are the only ones who are even braced against the cold winter winds that have started coming from the north overnight. Vision doesn’t feel the weather at all, and Thor and Steve are barely affected by it. Thus, why they’re sent on the tree finding mission.

 

They set off with Misha settled on Steve’s hip. There’s no snow yet, though the weather man promises it by tomorrow at the latest. Steve can’t help but wonder whether that will keep Bucky from making it in, but he keeps his fears to himself. He knows Bucky, and he knows Bucky is as stubborn as he is. Bucky will make it to them if he has to fight a whole blizzard to do it. 

 

Vision begins asking questions about what a good Christmas tree is. The android is clearly a little perplexed by the tradition. “If the tree will only die, then what will be the point?” he asks.

 

“I think it was the Germanics that first began bringing bits of evergreen into their house.” Jane turns a light shade of pink then. “History really isn’t my speciality, but I’ll try. Anyway, there were symbols during the solstice, which Christmas celebrations are derived from. They were a physical reminder that the spring would come again, because the leaves never faded from green. At some point, a whole tree became connected to the whole Christmas thing.”

 

“I remember the branches that were kept in houses in those days.” Thor’s deep voice holds a kind of respect and admiration. The god seems more impressed with the things humans come up with than anyone Steve has ever met. “We used to laugh about that in Asgard, but I can see what they were. It is a great thing.”

 

“Well, from you've told me, Asgard doesn’t have the seasonal shifts that we have.” Jane offers in that way she has, so as not leave anyone out of the loop. She’s Tony’s polar opposite. “So, it makes sense that you wouldn’t connect greenery with a longing for spring.”

 

“The Barnes always had a Christmas tree when we were kids. I’m not sure how they afforded it every year, but they did.”

 

“Were they expensive?” Jane asks, eyes alight with curiosity.

 

Steve nods. “And hardly a necessity. That money could have gone to food, or gas, or any number of things. I don’t think Winfred ever regretted it though. It made her kids happy.”

 

“The goal of most mothers,” Thor agrees solemnly, the deep rumbling voice heavier than normal. Steve figures he must have been thinking of his own mother, and likely his brother as well. “I’m sure she made the right decision.”

 

“Dada.” Misha spoke from his coats and hats and waved at the trees around them. “Geen!”

 

“Good job, Misha.” The boy giggles for no apparent reason. “Which one should we pick?”

 

“What makes a good Christmas tree?” Vision questions.

 

“According to Charlie Brown, a stick with one red ball on it.”

 

“Oh, god.” Steve groans. “Please don’t mention that movie around Bucky. I think we watched it every day for a month last year.”

 

“He liked it, huh?” Jane laughs.

 

“That’s the reason we were Snoopy, Charlie Brown, and Woodstock for Halloween.”

 

“That was adorable, Steve. I told you that, right?”

 

Steve flushes, because as much as he hated it, it had been adorable. Misha had been the cutest little Woodstock that there ever was. “Let’s just find a tree and go home, please.”

 

It takes an hour, but Jane finally spots the tree. It’s a deep rich green, just the same shade as a bottle of paint Steve has back in the Tower. It’s thick and full. Not to big and not too small. It should fit in Clint’s doorways, and not take up to much space in the living room. Misha pronounces his happiness with the tree by grabbing a handful of the leaves and getting sticky tree sap all over his fingers.

 

With a tree picked, Steve hands Misha over to Jane and he, Thor, and Vision set to work. Vision uses his beam to cut the tree away at the stump and he, Steve, and Thor catch it as it falls. It’s not exactly traditional, but it gets the job done and earns a giggle from Misha in the process. Steve and Thor carry it home between them without a problem.

 

When they get back to the house, the others have finished their chores. Pepper, Darcy, Wanda, and Bruce are back from shopping. Tony, Clint, and Pietro are on the roof trying to string lights. They can hear them arguing from a mile out.

 

Steve decides that he’s not in charge here and lets them duke out. If they hurt themselves, they hurt themselves. Instead, he helps Thor get the tree inside, and then peels Misha out his wrappings. The boy is much happier to be free to move around on his own while Steve and the rest of them decorate the tree. Steve even gets Misha to help, handing over ornaments that aren’t delicate to the boy, and then holding him so that he can put them on the tree. Pepper snaps a few pictures, and Steve sends them Bucky.

 

They’ve finished and are sitting on floor admiring their work when Steve gets a text back.

 

_Two best tree decorators in the world. - B_

 

Steve smirks and maneuvers Misha to an arm so he can text back. _Wish you were here with us. - S_

 

_Soon, I promise. I hope. - B_

 

Steve’s eyebrows scrunch together as he studies the phone. Bucky second guessing his time table is not a good sign. _Everything okay? - S,_ he sends back.

 

It’s several tense, minutes before Bucky gets back to him. _Yeah. It’s fine. Just long. Won’t be about to talk tonight. - B_

 

Even through a line of text Steve can pick on Bucky’s disappointment. He wants, or rather needs, to do something. He can’t handle knowing Bucky is so distracted while he’s out there fighting.

 

“Hey, Pepper, can you take a video for me?”

 

“Sure.” Pepper seems a little confused by game all the same. “What do you need?”

 

“Just something for Bucky.” Steve grins and hopes this does the trick.

 


	4. Don't Shoot Me Santa Claus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That last chapter was all Steve so here's some Bucky. I also couldn't help my little Winter Soldier Vol. 1 reference. I'm sorry.

**Chapter Four**

**Don’t Shoot Me Santa Claus**

 

There’s still popping in the distance when Bucky ducks back into a alcove. “Damn it, Natasha, where are they coming from?”

 

“I don’t know,” she replies back, breathless and rushed in his ear. “Its like you think I know everything.”

 

“Don’t you?” Bucky spins around a cramped corner, firing indescribably just to keep himself safe. When there’s no answering fire, he lowers his gun. “The southwest corridor is clear. How many more to go?”

 

“Only the top three floors,” she replied as there’s another explosion yards away from him. “Bucky, you alright?”

 

“I’m fine Nat.” He grunts, slabbing a stairwell door open. “Just stay focused on your end. I’ll take care of mine.”

 

“First one to finish picks breakfast?”

 

“Agreed.” There’s silence after that, and Bucky takes a moment to look at his watch before moving to the first floor. Three o’clock in the morning. Christmas Eve Morning. It’s Christmas Eve. Bucky groans, taking the relatively peaceful moment to throw a pity party. Why is he storming this base when he should be safely at home, tucked up next to Steve in bed? It’s fucking Christmas, and he deserves better than this. 

 

The moment passes and Bucky gets to work. The information their informant gave them is only about half right. Yes, it’s exactly where they said it is, but it’s also more heavily guarded than they thought. What had been planned as a six hour infiltration and demolition has turned into nearly twelve, and they aren’t done yet. Even Bucky is beginning to run on fumes, much less Natasha’s all too human friends. Then again, were they friends if you had to call in favors to make them help you? There’s nothing left for them to do but carry on and turn the whole place into a bonfire. They can’t run the risk of these Hydra wannabes carrying through on their dreams of building their own Black Widow. Bucky shudders to think of the memory washing machine they’d found in the lower levels. Bad enough he and Natasha had been subjected to that once, to have anyone else suffer that atrocity was a step too far. Bucy won’t have it. 

 

Even if it means missing Christmas with his boys.

 

* * *

 

The sun is just coming up when he and Nat are sliding into the bar stools at a run down little  _ Le Waffle House  _ on the outskirts of Paris. 

 

“Leave it to you,” Natasha complains as she settles, favoring her left side. Bucky hasn’t gotten the full story yet, but he thinks she got hit by a baton. She says nothing is cracked. Bucky has chosen not to argue. “To find a Waffle House in the middle of France.”

 

“It’s an American institution, Natalia.” Bucky grins at the waitress. “Tant le cafe, s’ilvous plait.”

 

The portly woman gives them a once over before shrugging and grabbing a coffee pot. Bucky will admit, they look worse for wear. He still has war paint smudged around his eyes and his hair has long since fallen out of its bun. Natasha’s hair is a wild, untamed mess, the ends slightly charred from where she'd gotten in a fight with a fire welder. Their skin is pale as ghosts, they’re still wearing combat gear, and covered in ash from their bonfire. Bucky can’t imagine an odder pair sitting in a Paris Waffle House on Christmas Eve. 

 

They’re two cups of coffee in before they start to look at the menu, and then four before they say anything. Natasha orders the largest, most stuffed omelette they have. Bucky orders two stacks of pancakes, a side of bacon, a side of sausage, a scrambled egg, and a biscuit  and gravy. The waitress gives them a look, refills their coffee, and pointedly walks to the other end of the bar. 

 

“What?” Bucky asks of Natasha’s unamused glance. “I’m a super soldier. I have a high metabolism, and I just spent it all fighting wanna be Hydra for a sixteen hours. Forgive me, I’m gonna have a big boy breakfast.”

 

“I didn’t say anything.” Natasha turns back to her coffee with a smirk. “But if you nap while I drive us over the Atlantic, we’re gonna see how much of a big boy you are.”

 

“You wouldn’t dare.” Bucky shrugs her off, knowing she wants to be home as much he does. “What would you tell my son if you got his Papa killed on Christmas Eve?”

 

“That his father had it coming.” Natasha snickers and shrugs. “He’s going to learn one day. Might as well break the news gently.”

 

“You call that gently? You’re a hard woman. Now hush so I can check my messages.”

 

There’s silence, the sweet normal kind that’s filled the clank of dishes and the slurps of food being eaten. It’s not too silent to be worried about and not too loud for anything not to be regulated to background noise. Bucky pulls his phone from a protected pocket on his thigh and begins switching through his assembled messages. He sends one to director Coulson to let him know that he and Nat are alive, mission success, all that jazz. There’s a message from the bank of all places wishing him and Steve a very merry Christmas. Bucky rolls his eyes. Clint says something about a tree and “The invasion of Christmas in my house. Save me.”

 

Bucky snickers. “Did you get this text from Clint?”

 

“Reading it now. He’s such a baby.”

 

“He’s your baby.”

 

“Ew.” Nat deadpans. “Please don’t ever say it like that that again.”

 

Bucky laughs with the full force of his body, probably a little too loudly if the glares of the other patrons are anything to go by. He ignores them and goes back to his phone. Finally, he finds something from Steve. He was beginning to think that his husband had forgotten him all together. When he finds a video, he turns up the volume and leans in close. Natasha glances over his shoulders. 

 

The scene is a huge christmas tree, covered in a thousand multi-colored lights. Bucky vaguely recognizes Clint’s house in between the mess of tree and ornaments. Steve is sitting cross legged in front of the tree, Misha in his lap, smiling at the camera. Bucky smiles back even though he knows he can’t be seen. Seeing his boys, and knowing he’ll be back in just a few hours, is enough to remove any tiredness from his limbs and fog from his mind. 

 

“Hey Bucky!” Steve greats, and then turns down to prompt Misha, “Say hi to Papa.”

 

“Hi, Papa!” Misha adds a little wave at the camera, and Bucky giggles at the sight and waves back like a loon. 

 

“I know you’re working, but I wanted to show off our handy work.” He gestures to the monstrosity behind him. “Misha, Thor, Jane, Vision, and I found the tree, and some others went and got the decorations. Tony, Clint, and Pietro put lights on the house. That was better entertainment than going to a movie. I think Wanda is gonna make cookies with Misha tomorrow. Just wait till you see this place. It’s unbelievable. Clint won’t stop complaining about it, so he must like it. We’ll see you soon, and I love you. Tell Papa bye, Misha.”

 

“Bwe, Papa!” Misha waves, but his gaze has been caught by a bright bit of tassel hanging off the tree. Steve chuckles and tries to hop up before he can grab it. The video ends before Bucky can see what happened.

 

Bucky chuckles, more than a little surprised when his throat and eyes feel a little wet. Nat pats his shoulder as she slides back into her seat. “We’ll get you home soon, James. I’d hate for you to miss that bit of adorableness.”

 

The waitress approaches them carrying more plates than two normal people could ever eat. Even Bucky for a moment thinks that he might have over estamated before shrugging and digging into his breakfast. 

 

“After this, we’ll go back to the apartment.” Natasha waits until they’re halfway through their meal before she goes back over details. “You and I need to get some sleep before flying across an ocean. That’ll still puts us home by some time tonight. Early even.”

 

Bucky nods, debating between a bite of pancake or gravy covered biscuit. “Okay. You’re paying right?”

 

Natasha rolls her eyes and socks his flesh shoulder. “You’re a jackass, James.” 

 

Bucky laughs and pulls his phone out. There’s a little thrill of triumphant when he texts Steve  _ Be home tonight. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hit me up on my [tumblr!](http://everydaybella.tumblr.com/)


	5. I'll Be Home for Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of my favorite chapters so I hope you guys like it. Drop me a line if you do?

**Chapter Five**

**I’ll Be Home For Christmas**

  
  


“Here Misha, can you make a ball for me?”

 

Steve tries not to listen. Wanda has “borrowed” Misha to make Christmas cookies with. Steve is more than okay with the break, but he can’t help wondering how it's going. Misha has been in the kitchen with him and Bucky before, but he hasn’t gotten to help hands on yet either. Steve has promised not to intervene, but there’s a part of him dying to know if his son is covered in flour and sugar. 

 

As a distraction, he pulls his phone out again, but at finding no new texts he puts it away. The last he heard from Bucky he was at his base and going to take a nap before they began flying back. Bucky hadn’t sounded happy about the plan, but safety is still important and that’s what they were going to with. Steve had expected him to text before they left France, but that should have been hours ago. Steve is trying very hard not to worry about it, but as the clock ticks by, it becomes harder and harder. Is it too much to just want his whole family under one roof for Christmas day?

 

But Misha is giggling in the kitchen for the moment and that’s all that really matters.

 

Unable to help himself for a moment longer, he creeps into the kitchen following the smell of baking sugar and toasted nuts. Misha is sitting on a cabinet, held in place by a glowing red strand of Wanda’s magic. He’s has a tiny ball of cookie dough in his hands, but the remains of more going all the way to his elbows. Steve snickers and pulls out his phone to take a picture to send to Bucky. 

 

“Captain,” Wanda says, smirking as she lays out sugar dough balls on a cookie sheet. “I do believe I asked you not to come in until we were done?”

 

“You can only steal my son away for so long, Wanda.” Steve smiles back before leaning in to meet Misha’s eyes. “Having fun?”

 

Misha grins his toothy smile and holds out his hand, which is full of sticky dough. Steve snickers and nibbles a little bit off his fingertip, which makes Misha giggle. “Pretty good. Needs more Misha goodness though.” Steve reaches forward, smacking a kiss right to the tip of Misha’s dimpled nose. The boy squeals with laughter and grabs his Daddy’s face, smearing cookie dough all over him. Steve smiles, not minding the mess, and pulls away after a kiss to Misha’s blessedly clean forehead. 

 

“You are so good with him,” Wanda says as Steve grabs a clean rag to start cleaning him and Misha up with. “Where you always good with kids, or this just something that’s special for him?”

 

Steve shrugs and pauses to consider. “I don’t really know. You know Bucky had little sisters right?”

 

Wanda nods as she rolls out a thin sheet of white dough. “He’s quite fond of talking about them.”

 

“Yeah, he is. I think he does it so he doesn’t run the risk of forgetting them.” Steve shakes his head, clearing away the cobwebs and sadness of everything they’d missed out on. He highly doubts Wanda wants to hear about that. “Anyway, Bucky and I were close growing up and that meant I knew his sisters. I was there when the youngest of them was born. Bucky was always with them, so there I was, too. That’s what I know about kids. Bucky’s little sisters. Then, when we had our place, there were kids around the building. After Snow White came out, there were girls rushing around always begging me for pictures of Snow White and the Dwarfs. I got pretty good with ripping off Walt Disney.”

 

“That’s sweet.” Wanda pauses to consider and seems to think it's a safe time. “Understand as I ask this, you don’t have to answer it, but did you and Peggy, did you ever think about some thing like him with her?”

 

Steve would be lying if he answered any other way. “Yeah, I did. I always felt guilty about it, because I still felt the same way about Bucky, but back then we didn’t have a future and we knew it. Bucky never minded, damn well pushed me on to Peggy.”

 

Wanda laughs, and the room needs it. “That does sound like him. I have never met anyone more prone to giving up what he wants just for someone else's happiness.”

 

“That’s my Bucky.” Steve’s grin is proud and sweet as he cleans between Misha’s fingers. “He doesn’t know when to stop. He saw something between Peggy and I, and he fought for it. He was so pissed when he started regaining his memories, because I didn’t get the family that I deserved.”

 

“That also sounds like him. He’s very protective of you, Captain.”

 

“He always has been.” Steve misses him, aching somewhere in his gut. He hates being away from him for any length of time, but this time seems worse. Maybe because of the time of the year, or the suddenness, or the way they’d already had plans. Maybe a combination of all three. Whatever the reason, it’s harder this time than ever. Steve uses his thumb to wipe a streak of chocolate from Misha’s cheeks, and changes the subject with Wanda. “Was there a reason you wanted to know all this, Wanda?”

 

Her cheeks turn nearly as red as her favorite jacket. She doesn’t answer him at first, ducking away and out of the line his sight to put a batch of christmas tree shaped cookies into the oven. Steve is, for a second, thankful that Bucky isn't there; as he would take too much pleasure from teasing her for her uncustomary embarrassment. Steve is patient. She’ll open up when she’s ready and no sooner. 

 

She’s back to the mixing bowl and her head is down when she finally answers, “I was just wondering. I barely remember my parents, and for a long time, children where the farthest things from my mind, but I’ve begun to wonder if that’s something I want.”

 

Steve pulls a freshly cleaned Misha into his arms and approaches Wanda to put his free arm around her. She leans into his embrace gratefully, and its strikes him just how young Wanda and her brother are. Of course, they hadn’t been children since that bomb took out their home and their parents, but they’re still younger than anyone the team. Even with the ice years taken off him, he’s still nearly a decade older than the twins. They’d been through so much in those years. It was understandable then that Wanda hadn’t thought about it before. She’d had more important things to worry about. 

 

“It’s important to remember, Wanda, that we’re all more than the sum of our parts. Bucky and I are more than just soldiers, Bruce is more than just the Hulk, you are more than just a witch of unequaled caliber. If you can love a child more than anything else, then I figure you can be a great parent. If the way you always care for Misha is an indication, then I’d say you’d do fine.”

 

Steve can see the edges of her lips curl into a grateful smile as she pats his back. “Thank you, Captain.”

 

“Wanda, please.” he laughs as he released her. “It’s Steve.”

 

“How long has it been, Captain?”

 

“Years, Wanda.”

 

“And years it will continue to be, Captain.”

 

Steve shrugs in defeat. “Can I do anything for you, Scarlet Witch?”

 

She arches an eyebrow at him in a look that he would swear she picked up from Natasha. “Touche. You could also explain fatherhood to Vision.”

 

“I’ll try, but I make no promises. I don’t understand it myself most days.” Steve smiles at Misha as he heads for the door. “Come on, Misha. Let’s go see if we can get Uncle Tony in any trouble.”

 

Outside its colder than he remembers, and the wind is picking up. There’s an ominous bank of clouds over the treetops and he hopes there's not a storm brewing that will keep Bucky and Natasha stuck. Steve shelters Misha in his arms keeping him warm on the short walk from the house to the barn. Inside the barn is heated, clean, and Steve doesn’t worry about putting Misha down to crawl around the baby pin he recognizes from Tony’s lab in New York.

 

About the only thing of Clint’s in the barn is a tractor in one corner. Everything else had been taken over by Tony as a temporary lab. Steve has noticed the lights on through the night. Pepper has told him that Tony hasn’t been sleeping as much since the pregnancy. Steve has been meaning to have a talk with him, and this seemed like as good a time as any. 

 

Tony doesn’t even realize that Steve has come in. He’s leaning over a table in the middle of the barn, welding torch in his hands and headphones on his ears. Steve sighs and steps up behind him to turn the gas off of his torch. Tony jerks in surprise and spins to find Steve waiting on him. When he lifts the head phones, he can make out the words on the song he had been listening. “Is that a forties thing? Turning off a man’s work.”

 

“No, but making sure a man works safely is.” Steve smirks, sliding onto a half empty bench that will hold his weight. You really shouldn’t wield and wear headphones at the same time.”

 

“Clint’s speaker system is for shit.” Tony, at least puts the headphones away, but he turn back to his work while he’s talking to Steve.

 

“Pretty sure that Clint didn’t intend for you to build an Iron Man suit out here.”

 

Tony snorts. “If I can build the Marc 1 in a cave, while being held captive by terrorists, and out of scrap, pretty much means I can build one any where.”

 

“While dying even.” Steve doesn’t feed the Tony Stark ego machine often, but there are moments, usually when he needs the attention, like now. 

 

Tony smirks, his eyes still trained to the work he’s doing. “Exactly. Head phones won’t hurt me too much.”

 

“Whatever you say, Tony.” Steve pauses, lets Tony get used to presence, and just when the scientist is reaching for the torch again Steve asks, “So, how much have you been sleeping lately?”

 

Tony startles, bouncing on his seat and turning to glare at Steve. “Pepper sent you here, didn’t she?”

 

“No.” Steve laughs which pisses Tony off more. “Not that I wouldn’t if she had asked me to, but no, I come of my own free will.”

 

Tony grunts and reaches for the Stark Pad sitting on his left. He’s typing away as he talks, and Steve is smart enough to recognize the anxiety driven habit. “It’s just insomnia. It’ll pass, Capsicle.”

 

“Yes and no.” Steve knows insomnia. He and Bucky go through their own bouts of it, and Tony is usually up and down on a regular basis. He also knows, however, that there can be a trigger and he can think of one big trigger in Tony’s life. “Yes, you might not be able to control it, but talking about it can help.”

 

“Have you ever known me for talking?”

 

“Only all the time, Tony.” Steve deadpans.

 

That earns him a laugh. “Fair enough. What do you want to talk about? There was a paper out that said we might have to save the world from the Hydon Super Collider.”

 

“What’s coming out of it this time?” Steve asks with a roll of his eyes. “Aliens from another dimension? Ctuthlu?”

  
“Ctuthlu.” Tony chuckles to himself. “That’s a good one. Your references are getting better.”

  
“They should. It’s all Bucky’s work.” Steve makes a stab in the dark and comes up with pay dirt. “How’s Pepper? I haven’t seen her since this morning.”

  
Tony shrugs, and Steve notes that he doesn’t look at him when he replies, “In bed. She got sick after lunch.”

  
Steve wishes he had experience with this part, but he and Bucky got Misha when he was almost seven months old. They never even met his mother. Didn’t even know her name. Russian orphanages aren’t known for their record keeping. 

  
“I’m sure she’ll be fine.” Steve offers, feeling like an idiot.   
  


“Of course she’ll be fine.” Tony’s voice then drops and Steve is certain that without his super hearing he wouldn’t have heard, “It’s not her I’m worried about.”   
  


“What are you worried about? You said the baby was fine last time they checked.” Suddenly, it clicks and Steve nods. “This is about your father isn’t it?”   
  


Steve watches as Tony tenses, his shoulders hunching and his fingers gripping the steel underneath them. Steve knows about Tony and Howard. Steve has come to terms with the fact that Howard, a man Steve respected during the war, all but ignored his son. Steve thought Tony had came to grips with it too, but then again, finding out you’re going to be a father can bring out the worst in your mind. Steve knows that much from Bucky. This would explain the insomnia as well.   
  


“You’re not your father, Tony.”   
  


Tony snorts, crossing to the other side of the table to examine his project from the other side. He still doesn’t look up at Steve when he answers. “I know that. I’m smarter than him.”   
  


“Well, you are, but that’s not what I mean.”   
  


“The bigger question is genetics.”   
  


“Genetics?” Steve questions, figuring if Tony is willing to talk, then the least he can do is keep him talking.    
  


“Genetics. If certain things are hard wired into your system, then can you fight them?”   
  


“Of course you can.”   
  


Tony keeps going as if Steve hasn’t spoken. “Do you know that cycle of abuse goes in families? Kids who are abused are more likely to abuse their own kids, and so on, and so forth. It sucks and all, but sometimes that’s just the way the dice falls.”   
  


“There’s always a way to fight, Tony.”   
  


“And how would know?” Tony finally looks at him and it’s a cold, hard glare, but it's also hiding something inside that’s hurting and confused. Something that Tony probably doesn’t want to see in the light of day, especially around Pepper. Steve can handle it. He’s been here before.   
  


“Bucky.”   
  


“Now is not the time for your grand love story, Rogers.”   
  


“Bucky is how I know you can break it, Tony.” Steve uses just a little bit his Captain voice to make Tony pay attention. It’s a cheap shot maybe, but it’ll do the trick. “Bucky had a shit life. He had a dad who beat him. He had to look out for me and his sisters, and then he had to go fall in love with me. In the 1940s. And also because he’s an idiot, he was willing to let me go so I could have a normal, happy life with Peggy.   
  


"He didn’t get the good grace to even die. He was turned into a monster by the only people he really fears. You think he doesn’t know how the numbers said how he would turn out as a father? Because trust me, he did. He agonized over it for months and you know what? It made him a better father. It made him love Misha with a kind of strength I don’t even know how to compete against. He struggles with it every day, morning, noon and night. He makes the decision to be better.”

  
Tony opens his mouth to argue, but Steve keeps right on talking. “You know how else I know? Clint. His dad was an asshole and he still gets down on his hands and knees to play with my son. Natasha’s childhood was nothing but blood and death and she’s still the person I call when I’m at my wit’s end and I don’t know what to do any more. We’re all fucked up somehow, Tony. But we  _ all _ deserve to be happy, to have a family. Don’t let your past hold you back. Don’t let it win. I swear to you that your child is worth fighting for.”   


It gets Tony to shut up for a couple of minutes, but in the end, he has a comeback. “Who let you adopt a kid? They’re gonna lose their job. No, wait, you and Bucky stole Misha, didn’t you?”

  
“Shut up.” Steve laughs, shakes his head, and tries again. “You’re not your father, Tony.” Out of the corner of his eyes, he catches the sight of Misha, playing on the floor and smiles to himself. “And that, right there, is how I know.”   
  


Tony brought with him the kid pen he made for Misha from the New York lab. It’s made of plastic and painted with bright primary colors. Though they always keep some of Misha’s toys in the pen, Tony developed a series of a bright, flashy spinning wheels that he connected to the plastic. Misha would grab one, spin it, and watch in fascination as the lights went off and the colors spun. 

  
Steve has come into the lab several times to find Misha sitting on Tony’s lap, chewing on a plastic wrench and watching quietly as his uncle maps out a new Iron Man suit. Bucky has taken enough videos to prove that it happens. Frequently.

  
“Not even on his best day would Howard have let a baby into his lab, let alone given up the time to make a safe place for him to play. He definitely wouldn’t have brought that play space with him when he moved his lab for a couple days. “You’re not Howard, Tony. Far from it. And I promise that if we start to see that change, we’ll say something. That what we’re here for.”

  
Tony sighs, still intently staring at his tools, before all the tension just melts away. “Some pep talk, Cap.” 

 

Tony snorts, grinning, and Steve knows he’s gotten through. For now at least.

 

“It’s what I’m good at.” Steve shrugs and scoops Misha out of the pen and back into his arms. “Wanna go see if Wanda’s cookies are done yet?”

 

Before Tony can reply, the barn door is pushed open with an icy gust. The cold stabs right through Steve, raising goosebumps on his arms and making Misha whimper. Clint and Sam both scamper inside and slide the door shut, but not before the effects can be felt. 

 

“We’ve got a problem.” Sam says rubbing his hands together to keep them warm. “There’s a storm coming in.”

 

“How big?” Steve asks, cursing how distracted he’s been the last few days. He should have kept a better eye on things. 

 

“I’d say it's a full on blizzard.” Clint explains. “I wouldn’t be worried. I’ve got enough supplies on hand that we would survive for a while. It’s Nat and Bucky I’m worried about. The temperature has already started dropping and visibility is gonna go to shit in just a hour. They’re no way they're flying the quinjet through this.”

  
Steve clutches Misha a little bit tighter. Bucky might not make it for Christmas after all.


	6. White Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I am so terrible about posting. I can do nothing but beg for forgiveness. And offer up the next chapter of course.

**Chapter Six**

**White Christmas**

 

Bucky growls at the screen and fights the urge to punch something. Of all the days for the weather to hate him so much.

 

Natasha and Bucky’s trip across the Atlantic had been uneventful, but they’d been forced to put down in New York by a bank of low clouds that’s covering the mid-west and part of the eastern seaboard. New York is putting down the hatches for a hundred year snow storm and there’s no way they’re going to be able to fly to Ohio. They’d landed at the Tower, fully intending to find a way across land. Thirty minutes later and they’re still looking. 

 

“I’m going to call them.” Nat sighs, glaring at Bucky and punching in the number. Bucky childishly sticks his tongue out at her, and continues glaring daggers at the modules on the screen. He’s been trying not to worry Steve. It isn’t a question of not making it. He’s going to make it to them. It's just a matter of when. Natasha isn’t so convinced. 

 

The Avenger’s Tower command center holds the best tech that Stark’s money can buy. This is the heart of their operation when they aren’t doing work for SHIELD, but it’s also a bit eerie without everyone here. It’s too large of a space for just him and Natasha, and there’s still the storm brewing outside. They’re running out of time and talking to the others is a waste of it. They should just hit the road. 

 

The big overhead screen is soon showing a picture of Clint’s living room with the rest of their family huddled around a laptop. Steve is in front, Misha on his lap, and it's the one year old who gets the first word in. “Papa!”

 

“Hey, принц.” Bucky smiles and waves. “How’s my boy?”

 

“He’s fine, Bucky.” Steve interjects without a smile and Bucky sighs. He knows that face. Steve is worried out of his mind about nothing.  _ Figures. _

 

“Stevie, breathe pal. This is just a little snow.”

 

“It’s not just a little snow.” Steve argues like everyone isn’t watching them quarrel like an old married couple. Which Bucky supposes they are, but they don’t need to act like in front of everyone. “It’s a blizzard, Bucky. The temperature dropped fifteen degrees here in an hour and it's already snowing. Nothing thick yet, but it won’t be long.”

 

“Stevie, if you're suggesting what I think you’re suggesting you can shove it up your…”

 

“Hey, guys,” Sam cuts in before Bucky can finish his sentence. “Maybe you can argue somewhere else?” 

 

Steve bites his bottom lip about the same time as his cheeks flush. Bucky stifles a groan and makes sure his lower half is hidden behind the desk. “All right then, any bright ideas anybody?”

 

“I could try to control the weather again?” Wanda offers skeptically, but it's clear she doesn’t think she can. Bucky doesn’t miss the little bit of white flour sticking to her hair and wonders what she’s been doing, and was there a dusting on Vision’s cape too?

 

Bucky shakes his head. He really needs to get laid.

 

“That won’t be necessary. I have a plan.”

 

“What plan is that, Bucky?” Steve sounds somewhere between worried and pissed. “Walk here?”

 

“No.” Bucky shakes his head, grinning like an adrenaline junky about to get his fix. “Bikes.”

 

“Are you an idiot?” Nat snaps at him. Steve’s rolls his eyes, and Pietro leans forward with excitement. Bucky knew someone would get excited with him. 

 

“I’m pretty sure flying would be the safer option.” Sam, sweet, level-headed Sam, is getting sick of Bucky's bad ideas. “And you wouldn’t catch me flying in this for half of Stark’s money.”

 

“Actually, you guys don’t put enough in faith our boy.” Tony’s smug, which isn’t normally a good thing. “He might not be crazy.”

 

“Do you think they might be ready?” Bucky asks, fighting the urge bounce on his toes like when Misha gets a bite of something sweet. 

 

Tony and Bruce share a look, and then a shrug. “They haven’t been tested yet,” Bruce warns. “But it's probably the best bet you've got.”

 

“What are we talking about?” Steve finally demains.

 

“The nerds have been working on a bike that’s safe to drive in ice and snow.” Bucky tells him, trying not to be smug. He thinks he fails pretty epically. “They thought it would be good for cold missions, but it should work for this pretty well, too. I figure we can make it in three, four hours? What do you think, Nat?”

 

“I still think you’re an idiot.” Natasha smiles at him, which is as close to a complement that he’s going to get for the moment. “And from the shape of these weather patterns, I’d say closer to six hours, but if these bikes work it's the best chance we’ve got.”

 

“I’ll get FRIDAY to unlock their safety overrides.” Tony says, fiddling with his phone. “Vision, could you map them the best route taking into account the storm as it moves through?”

 

“Of course.” Vision nods. 

 

“We’ll keep as much of the roads around here clear as we can,” Clint tells them. “Those are the ones you’re going to have the most trouble with.”

 

“Thanks, Clint.” Natasha gives the archer a soft smile and Bucky’s reminded that he’s not the only one trying to get home. “I’m going to get the cold weather gear out.”

 

There’s a moment where everyone’s rushing off to their own chores and Steve’s the only one left on the screen. Bucky smiles, going for reassuring and hoping that Steve will listen to him. “Steve, this won’t be a problem. It’s gonna be great. I’ll be there before you know it, just in time.”

 

“Bucky,” Steve sighs, voice full of exasperation, annoyance, and longing. “I just want you safe. You can stay there. This will clear up in a couple of days. We’d rather you were safe and alive.”

 

Bucky can appreciate and understand what he’s saying, and in his shoes Bucky would feel the same way. “I get it Steve, but it's our first christmas with all three of us and I’m not missing it. I’ve beat the rest of the world before. I can do it again. I want to be home, Stevie.”

 

Steve smiles, nods, and takes a deep breath. “Okay. Just be careful, please?”

 

“I’ll be fine.” Bucky turns his attention to the boy sitting on Steve’s lap and chewing on his thumb. “I’ll see you soon, okay, принц?”

 

“Papa.” Misha reaches for the screen, palm out, with a sweet smile. 

 

Bucky in turn presses his fingertips to his lip and blows him a kiss. “I’ll see you in the morning. Love you.”

 

“Luff you, Papa.” Steve reaches forward to turn off the screen and smiles. “Love you too, Bucky. Be safe.”

 

Bucky sighs when their faces disappear, and he knows he’s doing the right thing. He won’t survive another day without his boys. 

 

Rather than waste a few seconds feeling sorry for himself; he heads to the elevator that will take him to the garage. He knew the nerds have been working on the souped up bikes for a while, and he’d been hoping they would ask him to do the test drive. Now he’s getting his wish. 

 

Natasha is studying the squat bikes with a skeptical eye. They have wider, heavier treaded tires than normal. There’s a taller wind screen to shield out the ice and snow that will be falling. She’s also surrounded by the snow gear she’s drug out from the lockers. 

 

“I hope you're sure about this,” she imparts; handing over a heavy, silver coat. “Those hardly look road worthy.”

 

“Have Tony and Bruce ever let us down?” Bucky smiles as he shrugs into the coat and feels the left sleeve tighten around his arm. Another little trick of Tony’s. The sleeve keeps the mechanics of his bionic arm warm and prevents the plates from freezing up and leaving him with a useless left arm. Natasha already has her thermal pants on and boots. Bucky starts gathering the rest of his while she causally studies the bikes.

 

“Let’s just say, if we make it home in one piece, I owe Clint ten bucks.”

 

“Betting against yourself?” Bucky snickers, snapping his boots closed. “That’s not like you, Widow.”

 

“Hum.” She ties her back with a quick twist and straddles the bike. “This should at least be interesting. I’ve never biked through a snowstorm.”

 

“What can I say? Winter is in my name.”

 

“That was bad even for you, James.”

 

His answering laugh is lost in the roar of twin engines racing out into the gathering gloom.


	7. Santa Claus is Coming to Town

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry. I'm just gonna let you guys get to reading.

**Chapter Seven**

**Santa Claus is Coming to Town**

 

“Wet.” Misha declares, gathering a handful of falling snow into his tiny palm. Steve laughs, tucking the boy a little more securely into the warmth of his arms. 

 

“It’s cold too, buddy,” he says, showing Misha the snowflakes melting on his palm. Misha had been adorable watching the stuff fall from the windows while waiting for the rest of the family to get back from surveying the roads. After Steve had taken him out into it though, he’s been little more apprehensive. “See, you can make a ball like this and throw it.”

 

Steve’s snowball flies fifteen feet to the right to smash into the trunk of the tree. Misha giggles and throws his handful of fluff which only flutters to the ground in front of him. Steve snickers and shows him how to pack a ball,and then how to throw it. Misha’s first snowball makes it off the porch which he seems proud of as he crawls off to gather more of the falling snow. 

 

Steve keeps an eye out for him, but doesn't leave his spot on the front porch step either. He watches Misha and the road waiting for one of the others to show up. After Bucky had hung up the phone, Steve had found his team making a plan of attack that would rival any they had done in the field. Only instead of a crazed super villain, they were fighting the weather. Steve really doesn’t know who to root to for. They’ve all left, under Clint’s leadership of all things, just a few minutes later to get a feel for how bad the roads where. Steve had tried to go with them, but he’d been shooed off. Sam had told him to stay here with Misha, Pepper, and Jane. Steve has hated every second of it. 

 

He isn’t used to being left behind. This isn't his job. He’s supposed to be on the front lines, doing the hard jobs. That’s how it’s been ever since the war. Even before that, if there was something going, then you could almost bet that Steve Rogers was in the thick of it. Staying home is not what he does. He’s antsy and distracted, even with Misha to entertain him. He’d helped Jane and Pepper brew pots of coffee and tea for when they get back back. After that his hands have had nothing to do. He’s tried drawing while Misha plays and that hadn’t occupied him long. Finally, he’d taken Misha outside, hoping the fresh air would do him some good.

 

It hasn’t. He’s still as wound up as ever. 

 

Steve chuckles to himself. He’s being ridiculous. Bucky’s coming home, and the rest of them are making sure that it happens, but Steve can’t stop thinking about their rotten luck. Something, anything, can happen to Bucky and Natasha out there. They can get lost, they can start to freeze (Bucky doesn’t handle the cold as well as he likes to think he does.) The visibility is dropping by the minute, already Steve can’t see to the end of the yard. Bucky and Natasha could easily get in an accident and with the roads so bad who knows when they will be found again? They’re on untested, untried bikes. They could be hurt, or bleed out, or…

 

“Steve? Hey! Earth to Steve, man, come on. You need to breathe.” Sam’s voice breaks through the haze, and Steve sucks in a deep breath. He hasn’t even realized he’d gotten so lost in the worrying that he’s verging on a panic attack. He smiles shyly at Sam, and makes sure Misha is still playing with the snow a few feet from him. 

 

“Sorry.” Steve mutters.

 

Sam rolls his eyes as he takes the seat next to Steve. “How many times I gotta tell you it's not a big deal?”

 

Steve shrugs. “A couple more at least. How was it out there?”

 

“It could be better. Could be a lot worse, too. Tony thinks that between his unibeam and Vision’s beam, they should be able to keep most the close roads clear. The rest of us just have to do the leg work. I hate not being able to fly.”

 

Steve snorts. “Pretty sure Tony shouldn’t be flying either.”

 

“We tried to tell him, but you know how he is.” Sam snickers. “We’re gonna take it in shifts till they get here. With any luck, we’ll keep the roads clear from this end and they’ll be home before you know it.”

 

Steve nods and fights down the bubble of worry building in his gut. He has to trust that Bucky and Natasha know what they're doing, and he does. They’ll be safe and home. Then they’ll be snowed in together. That should be fun.

 

“Who else is coming back?” Steve asks, standing to feet and gathering Misha up in his arms. 

 

“Wanda, Thor, and Bruce. We’ll switch out in a couple hours.”

 

“I can help.” Steve argues unwrapping Misha from his coat as soon as they’re inside. “He’ll be asleep for the night in just a little bit, and then I’ll be free.”

 

“Steve, you don’t have to do everything.” Sam takes Misha from him so he can take off his own jacket. “Just stay here with him. There’s more than enough of us to take care of everything. Just enjoy Christmas Eve with your son.”

 

“I know.” Steve sighs and brushes his fingers down Misha’s cheek, but doesn’t try to take him from Sam’s arms. “I’m just not used to sitting on the sidelines. Especially when Bucky is involved.”

 

“Trust me, I know.” Sam scowls good naturally. No one has had to put with more of his drama than poor Sam. Steve blushes and opens his mouth to apologize, but Sam shakes his head and cuts him off. “I don’t mind. It’s okay. Just this once, let it be okay for the rest of us to take care of you. We’re gonna get Bucky home. You just gotta worry about this little guy.”

 

Steve takes Misha back and the boy curls into his shoulder, tiny fingers gripping his shirt and a thumb disappearing into his mouth. Steve rocks him gently from foot to foot. It’s getting late and the poor kid is tired. He smiles over his head to Sam who’s watching them with a smile. “Man, you guys are too cute.”

 

Steve pushes a kiss into Misha’s hair and lays his cheek on top of Misha’s head. “Thank you, Sam. For everything.”

 

“Don’t mention it.” Sam waves him off. “Don’t let him fall asleep yet. There’s still something we need to do.”

 

“What?” Steve asks, surprised when Sam takes Misha and heads for the kitchen.

 

“We gotta leave cookies for Santa, of course.”

 

Steve follows dutifully to the kitchen where Sam puts Misha on the cabinet and grabs a plate with a Christmas tree painted on it. “Okay kiddo, which of these cookies that you and Aunt Wanda made are we gonna leave for Santa?”

 

Steve watches from the doorway as Misha picks a green christmas tree, red antlers, and a peppermint cookie shaped like a candy cane. Sam, of course, also lets him eat a chocolate chip cookie, even though it's bedtime. “If you’re just gonna stand there, big guy, grab the milk from the fridge and a red apple.”

 

“The milk I get,” Steve says as he pulls the gallon from Barton’s tiny fridge. “But the apple?”

 

“It’s for Rudolf. Helps his nose glow brighter.”

 

“Oh, of course it does.” Steve snickers. He takes a picture of the finished plate when it's done and wonders who’s going to end up eating the cookies tonight. “Alright, Misha, let’s go get you to bed, okay? Santa can’t come till you’re asleep.”

 

“Papa?” he asks, his big, blue eyes sad.

 

“Yeah, Papa, too, sweetheart.”

 

* * *

  
  


It’s dark. It’s really, really dark. Even with his enhanced eyesight the twisting, narrow roads through the Appalachian Mountains are treacherous. Bucky and Nat take them slowly, so as not to go off the road. Of course, slow for them would have been fast by any one else’s standards. The bikes hold up well, but there isn’t a lot of maneuverability because of the fat tires. There’s ice and snow flying into their faces and Bucky’s fingers are freezing inside his gloves. In fact, he’s having to resist the urge to shake and shiver because it will rattle the whole bike. 

 

Somewhere just past the Pennsylvania border, Natasha, who’s taking her turn in the lead, pulls over to a stop at the side of the road. Bucky follows, body protesting as he swings off his bike. The only warm part of him is his left arm, kept hot so that it doesn't freeze and shut off. Natasha takes off her helmet and her cheeks are pale pink colored by the storm and cold. She has her phone out in an instant checking the weather. Neither of them want to be stopped in the cold for longer than necessary. 

 

“It’s getting colder,” Natasha remarks, voice strained as she tries not to shiver. 

 

“Yep,” Bucky agrees, bouncing a little on his toes. “And we’re not even halfway through.”

 

“This was your idea.” She mutters, eyes scanning the screen and brushing away the falling snowflakes. “Looks like the weather is more severe where we headed. Either that, or Thor is experimenting with thundersnow.”

 

“That sounds like him. Is there an alternate route we can take?”

 

“Not that isn’t out of the way.” She shakes her head, brushing flakes from her hair before they have a chance to melt against her body heat. “Visibility is going to get worse. It’s going to get colder. And there is at least two accidents down the road from us.”

 

“You can turn around and go back to New York?” Bucky offers, no hint of malice in his voice. He gets it, of course he does. He’s an idiot for trying this, but he’s getting to his boys one way or another. It doesn’t that she has to get himself killed in the process.

 

She glares at him. “If you ever want to have sex with Steve again you won’t say that another time.”

 

Bucky swallows, remembering why the Black Widow is so dangerous in the first place. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

 

“Good.” She pockets her phone and dusts of her helmet. “I think we’ve got a least a fifty miles to go before we stop again. You good?”

 

Bucky nods heading back to his own bike. “Want me to take the lead for a little bit?”

 

“Please.”

 

Bucky pulls out his phone for a moment before starting again. The screen glows and tells him it's ten pm. He puts the thing away and revs the engine again. Only a few more hours to go.


	8. Cold December Nights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my favorite chapter and I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I did!

**Chapter Eight**

**Cold December Nights**

 

“Misha, sweetheart.” Steve sighs and tries to sooth the boy after he starts whimpering again. They’ve been upstairs for almost two hours and Misha won’t go to sleep. He’s exhausted, but he’s fighting it. Steve is certain he isn’t sick, he’s isn’t hurting, he’s just tired and refusing to sleep. Steve’s heart hurts listening to him, so he had taken him from his pack and play to the bed where he slept for maybe ten minutes before waking up again. He’s currently pillowed on Steve’s chest, but it isn’t helping. “It’s going to be okay. You just need to go to sleep.”

 

Misha whimpers, rubbing his face against Steve’s soft shirt. “Dada. Papa.”

 

“I know, kiddo.” Steve tries to sooth while listening to the snow falling on the roof. “Papa will be home in the morning and he’ll be so happy to see you.”

 

Misha sniffs and lets out a wail. “Want Papa.”

 

Steve can’t blame him in the least. “I know, Misha. I know. Will going back down stairs make you feel better?”

 

Misha doesn’t make a reply, but laying in a dark room hasn’t helped, so maybe down stairs with the others will. He gathers Misha into his arms, stands up, and heads back down to the light. 

 

In the living room he finds Thor, Jane, Darcy, Pertio, and Clint gathered around the Christmas tree, laughing and eating Christmas cookies. They look up when Steve comes down the stairs and smile in sympathy at Misha’s tear tracked face. 

 

“The snow didn’t scare you, did it Mish?” Clint asks as Steve takes the empty sofa across from Thor. “I promise it doesn’t hurt anything and I’ll take you sledding tomorrow?”

 

Misha sighs shakily and curls closer to Steve. He rubs the little boys back and tells the others. “He want’s Bucky.”

 

“Aw, poor guy.” Darcy leans forward and hold out her hands. “You wanna come sit with me for a little while?”

 

Misha nods, reaching a single hand out for the brunette. Darcy takes his weight from Steve’s arms and cuddles him on the opposite couch. His beautiful blue eyes don’t close, but he’s head rests on Darcy’s shoulder with his thumb in his mouth. He keeps Steve in his eye sight at all times, but seems happy enough to be sitting there. At the very least he’s not crying for the moment.

 

“So, Steve,” Clint demands the attention of the super soldier with a teasing a smile. “You’ll never believe the interesting little tidbit I dug up the other day.”

 

“Hit me with it, Clint.” Steve leans back, figuring whatever the archer has up his sleeve is better than fretting until Bucky makes it in. 

 

“Seems that some of the oldest Santa Claus myths might have been influenced by Norse Myths.” Here Thor pricks his ears up, followed by Jane. “Anybody wanna take a guess?”

 

“Do you have any white bearded uncles with big bellies?” Darcy asks Thor.

 

“A great many, but none that I can think of that would be jolly giving children toys.” Thor’s laughter is deep and rumbling, his eyes blue and sweet. Steve loves him for his open honesty and the way he takes everything at face value. “Though if the toys were weapons, and the children were little warriors.”

 

“I don't even wanna think about that.” Steve mutters.Thinking about his baby with a sword is a step too far. 

 

“Man, you people are no fun.” Clint pouts. “It's Odin. Odin is a an early inspiration for Santa Claus.”

 

“Odin?” Thor looks quizzical while Jane breaks out into peals of laughter. 

 

“Oh God. He’s certainly no Santa Claus.” She giggles. “A christmas demon maybe.”

 

“Careful.” Steve smirks, unable to pass up the attempt. “That’s your father-in-law you're talking about.”

 

Jane shivered slightly in Thor in arms, who grins in light of the tease. “I should buy the All-Father a red coat. That would be a humorous jest.”

 

“And he wouldn’t even know why you’re laughing.” Steve snickers. It's a good thing the god has such a great sense of humour, otherwise they would all be bar-b-que by now. 

 

“And he says humans are simple.” Misha sighs heavily. “I agree, Misha. It is quite absurd. Come here, my little princeling. I will tell you a story and hopefully it will be just boring enough to give your father some relief.”

 

Thor’s big arms envelope Misha as he cradles him to his chest. His thumb doesn’t leave his mouth, but as Thor begins his warrior's tale Misha’s eyes begin to drop. Thor’s story comes from the Dark Ages, when the Asgardians saved a little Norse fishing village from the frost giants. There’s plenty of battle, bloodshed, and heroic human sacrifice, but there’s also a charming victory and tales of ale, feasting, happy days still to come. Thor’s voice is deep, rumbling, and hypnotic. Misha isn’t the only one caught in his spell. Steve, Jane, Darcy, and Clint all get swept away in his story and glorious victory. 

 

When it's over, Steve blinks his eyes open to find Misha with his eyes closed, his breathing even, and his head laying against Thor’s shoulder. Steve breaths a sigh of relief and sinks back into the couch cushions. “Thor, you’re a miracle worker.”

 

Thor chuckles softly and glances between Misha and Jane, who’s asleep on the other side. “No, I think that story is just boring. It always used to put Loki and I to sleep, too.”

 

“I don’t know what you're talking about.” Clint has taken up most of the floor now, sprawled out on his back like a crab that’s been beached. Lucky’s head is on his masters stomach and he too to is fast asleep. “That was awesome. I could be an Asgardian archer. You’re dad looking for new archers?”

 

“If anyone could convince him of the talents of Midgardians it would be you, Clint.” Thor smiles wistfully. “Now, Steve, if you wouldn’t mind taking your princeling. I will go put Jane and Darcy in their beds before heading out to relieve our comrades.”

 

“Yeah, of course.” Steve lifts Misha easily and puts him on the sofa. He doesn’t want to risk going all the way upstairs now that’s he’s asleep. There’s a blanket on the back of the couch that will serve well enough to wrap him up in. Steve’s lap serves as a pillow as Misha makes himself comfortable. 

 

His eyes open for just a moment, blinking against the warm, golden glow of the christmas lights. “Papa?” he mutters, trying to look around.

 

“Soon.” Steve coos and Misha closes his eyes. “Go back to sleep, little one.”

 

Clint and Thor wave on their way out and are careful not to let the door slam and wake Misha up. Steve settles into the couch, watching the lights and his son breathing as the clock chimes midnight on Christmas morning.

 

* * *

 

 

They’ve made it past the Ohio border before they stop again and this time Bucky can’t hide the shaking.

 

“Are you alright?” Natasha has to yell to be heard of the wind and flying snow. In the light from the headlights he can see concern flashing in her green eyes. 

 

Bucky has to remember how to how to move his jaw in order to form words. “I’ve been better,” he says, the words tremble and waver as he tries to stop shivering. He hates showing weakness in front of her her, in front of any one really, but he he knows he’s approaching a breaking point. His core temperature runs lower most of the time anyway and now, as the temperatures slip past zero, he’s really beginning to feel it. He can’t stop shaking, his teeth chattering, he can’t take a deep breath and when he does it feels like his lungs are being frozen out. Everything about him is cold. His fingers are going numb. He can’t seem to concentrate on the road. He’s smart enough to know that this is really bad for him and Natasha has to be experiencing it too. “How much farther have we got to go?”

 

“Fifty miles,” Natasha answers, her lips trembling and a pale blue tint to her skin. “And they won’t be easy. Clint’s farm is in the middle of nowhere and the roads are a mess.”

 

“Great.” Bucky groans, flexing his hands in his gloves. They hurt when they do. Another warning sign. “How are you feeling?”

 

“Been better,” she parrots back. “You ready to admit that this was a stupid idea yet?”

 

“It wasn’t a stupid idea.” Bucky moans, brushing snow flakes from his eyelashes. “The nerds just need to add heaters to their bikes.”

 

“You would think that would come standard.” Natasha smirks and heads back to her own bike. “Standing out here talking is doing no good. The only way to make warmth is too move.”

 

“You want me to lead?” he calls over the wind and barely catches her shaking her head.

 

“I’ve got it. You can take it in the back a little bit.”

 

Their engines rev but can barely be heard over the sound of the fierce battering winds that are trying to  knock them off the road. Natasha turns them off the highway, though how she knows to exit he has no idea. She isn’t wrong either, as soon as their off the highway the roads get rough, bouncing them all over the road. Perhaps he’s beginning to hallucinate as well, but he will swear to the winds being stronger. The irrational part of his mind thinks this would be a great villain super power. He doesn’t want to go up against it, that’s for sure.

 

As the minutes tick by, things begin to fade to the background. It’s easier that way. Bucky isn’t thinking about how uncomfortable the bike is, or how his body is hurting, or the cold wind that’s lashing at him. He’s thinking about home. About Steve and a fireplace and skin tingling, toe curling warmth. He’s thinking about Misha's solid weight in his arms and that dimpled little smile that he gets when he blows raspberries into his tummy. He’s thinking about coffee, and christmas trees, and the smell of pine and sugar. He’s thinking about home and all things he needs to be happy, the things that he’s putting himself through hell to get to. 

 

Time, though, is being sluggish and untrustworthy. Bucky knows he and Nat are fast racing toward a point of no return and things are already dangerous. Bucky’s hands are shaking enough to twist the handle bars gently and he’s growing tired, like a flog slipping over his mind. Everything is growing hazy, the snow, the light, his memories, the trees on either side of them, Steve, Natasha’s bike.

  
Then the world twists violently, and slips into blackness.


	9. Let It Snow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everybody! A little more on time this time huh? Can you believe it? LOL Anyways, special announcement at the end! Enjoy!

**Chapter Nine**

**Let  It Snow**

 

“Bucky!” The shout comes from far away and through a tunnel. Bucky groans as panic shoots through his tortured system. The last time he was this cold was…

 

“No!” he shouts, lurching unsteadily on to his feet. It’s too dark to see much, but the snow flurries sting his face. His lungs are burning with every breath, and Natasha’s dark shadow is kneeling in the snow. He’s not in a lab. There are no techs, no scientists, no Zola. There isn’t a cryo pod waiting for him to be frozen like a slab of meat to be brought out and used later. It’s just the woods of Iowa, and he’s fucking cold.

 

“Nat!” he yells, voice hoarser than he would like as rushes forward to pull the Widow to her feet. “What happened? Are you okay?”

 

“I’m fine.” she says sourly, the trembling in her limbs worse than it had been when they stopped earlier. “You wiped out your bike. What happened?”

 

“I think I fell asleep.” Bucky moans and holds his head. He at least didn’t hurt himself when he crashed. There’s none of his limbs protesting and he’s still stable on his feet. He’s not sure he would notice if he was bleeding. 

 

Unfortunately, the bike looks to be in worse shape than he is. The front tire is shredded and wheel base crumpled in on itself. There’s no way they’re taking that thing any farther. Bucky groans again. “Shit.”

 

“Big shit. I’ve stopped shivering.” Natasha says. “You’re in worse shape than I am.”

 

“How much farther?” Bucky asks, tongue feeling thick and clumsy in his mouth. 

 

“Not certain, but close I think.” Natasha studies the trees and road that can’t be seen for the ice underneath them. Bucky’s heart lurches when he realizes that she’s scared. Anything that can scare the Black Widow is worth being afraid of. It means they’re fucked. “We’re going to be slower on one bike though.”

 

“I don’t think we have an option, do we?”

 

“No, we don’t.” She’s all business as she turns back for her bike and straddles it. Bucky gets on behind her and wraps his arms around her waist as tight as he can. “Just do me a favor, James, and try to stay awake.”

 

Bucky nods as if he can’t feel the ice hitting his face anymore.

 

* * *

 

 

Steve doesn’t sleep as the hours tick by. His companions change as the Avengers take turns fleeing the cold. Steve feels guiltier and guiltier as each new group comes and goes. Sam pats his shoulder on his way out, but the flier can’t hide the worried look on his face. It’s taking too long for the spies to reappear. Clint has to be dragged back in against his will and he stays just long enough to suck down a cup of coffee before heading back out. Pepper reappears from up stairs some time around two and sits up with him. Misha stays asleep on his lap, and there is nothing else to do. Nothing. 

 

Nothing but worry because they’re late. Bucky and Natasha should have been back by now. They should have been home, warm and safe, but, instead Steve is growing tenser by the minute as they still aren’t home. Pepper doesn’t say anything either, just sits by quietly with her phone close incase Tony calls.

 

In fact Tony is the only one who hasn’t come back to the house. He’s claiming that he doesn’t need to because the suit is heated. Steve would argue with him if there was any space in his mind for anything but worrying about Bucky.

 

Suddenly, just after the clock slides past three-thirty, the door bangs open, letting in a gust of icy cold air and a pile of Avengers. Tony is in his suit, mask off, holding up a disheveled and pale Bucky. Steve takes just enough time to resettle Misha and take note of Clint with a similar looking Natasha behind them before he races to Tony, taking Bucky from him. The assassin leans gratefully against Steve, arms loosely around his waist and his cold nose against his neck. “I made it, Stevie.”

 

“I know, Bucky.” Steve says gratefully, holding Bucky as tight as he can for a moment before releasing him and cupping his frozen cheeks in his palms. Bucky sighs and leans into the warm. “Let’s get you taken care of, okay?”

 

Steve and Clint drag their weary better halfs into the living room and ease them into chairs by the fire. They’re peeled of out of their cold gear and wet cloths before they’re wrapped in blankets. Steve shakes out Bucky’s hair to get the ice and snow out of it, and then ties it up in a neat bun. He then takes Bucky’s hands and cups them in his own. “Damn it, Bucky. You’re like ice.”

 

“But you’re warming me up, baby.” Bucky quirks his lips, but the charming effect is ruined by the violent shivers taking over his body. Steve smiles at him anyway. 

 

“Sure I am, baby. That’s what I’m here for.”

 

“I wre-e-ecked the b-b-bike.” Bucky stutters an apology. “I fe-e-el aslee-e-ee-p.”

 

“You're a stubborn, idiot Bucky.”

 

“I wa-a-a-anted to be ho-o-o-me.” Steve has to remind himself that Bucky shivering is a good thing, even if he can’t seem to stop. “Co-o-o-uldn’t miss it.”

 

“I know, baby. Let’s just get you warm, okay?”

 

Bucky nods and looks so adoringly sweet that he can’t help leaning forward and kissing him for just a moment. Bucky smiles into it, his eyes fluttering closed, and Steve is once again holding him and keeping him from falling out of the chair. He laughs against Bucky’s lips and shifts them so that Steve is sitting in the chair, Bucky in his lap, and the blanket around both them, holding in Steve’s excess heat for Bucky’s body to absorb. Bucky sighs and slips his fingers, which are still like icicles under Steve’s shirt. Steve jumps in shock and bites Bucky’s nose in retaliation. 

 

Looking around finds Nat and Clint in a similar position, coupled up together on the couch. Tony is curled up with Pepper and Wanda is sitting with Misha, who through all the commotion and excitement has remained blissfully unaware.

 

Steve flutters his lips over Bucky’s forehead and catches Bucky smiling at the softly breathing bundle. “He didn’t want to go to sleep without seeing you.”

 

“Awe.” Bucky sighs. “I was late.”

 

“You were fine. Thor put him to sleep.”

 

There’s a deep chuckle from the other side of the room. “Some tricks from my mother, it's good they’re being used. I’m glad you two made it back through the storm.”

 

Natasha briefly nods her head, poking out of her blanket and Clint’s chest for just a moment. Bucky smiles across the room before curling closer to the Steve like a contented cat. 

 

Steve rocks him back and forth. relaxing when he feels Bucky’s tremors stop. Now that Bucky is safe and curled against him, and Misha is asleep on the couch, he feels his eyelids slip and close. He could sleep and there is nothing he wants more than this. They’re all safe, They’re here. They’ll all warm. 

  
His last coherent thought is that Bucky smells like cinnamon. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so, this story was nominated for the FanaticFanfics Multi-fandom awards in two categories! All time Favorite Marvel Fanfic and Best Slash which is crazy and who ever nominated me thank you so much. I am beyond honored. Its crazy. LOL If you want to vote for me, or anyone else in those wonderful categories hope over to awards. fanaticfanfics. com (take out the spaces.) Thanks for all the support guys. You're the best!


	10. A Great Big sled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Christmas in June? LOL I really didn't mean for this to take so long and I am so sorry, but here's an other chapter and we are approaching the end. Thanks for sticking with me!

**Chapter Ten**

**A Great Big Sled**

 

The first thing he’s aware of is pressure on his knees. Steve cracks an eye open to find Misha trying to climb up his legs.  There’s light in the room, so he figures it must be morning, but it's cold  and Misha is whining to be up in their laps. Steve leans down, trying not to jostle Bucky too much, and grabs Misha to haul him up. Misha crawls under blanket and curls into the space between him and Bucky. 

 

“Morning, Misha.” Steve presses a kiss to his forehead, and then watches as Misha pats Bucky’s check with the other thumb in his mouth. 

 

Bucky’s eyes flutter open and take in the little face staring at him with wide eyes. “Hey, buddy.” Bucky’s voice is rough with disuse and groggy with sleep. He looks so soft and cuddly that Steve can’t help but smile at him. He’s too beautiful. “Let’s go to sleep, okay?”

 

Steve snickers. Bucky’s head hasn’t left its safe place by Steve’s shoulder. He’s fuzzy, sleepy, and adorable. Like a big cat. Steve holds in a giggle and leans forward to brush his lips from Bucky’s nose, then to Misha’s forehead. “Papa had a long night, so let’s let him sleep okay, pal?”

 

Misha shrugs and curls into the non-existent space between their two bodies. His thumb is still in his mouth and he’s curled a little closer to Bucky than he is to Steve. Steve smiles as Bucky closes his eyes and wraps an arm around the little boy. Steve adjusts the blanket to make sure they’re both warm enough and leans back, serenaded by the sound of their twin snores. 

 

They’re asleep for a few minutes before Natasha and Clint sneak around the corner. Steve is once again fighting the urge to laugh. Clint is wrapped in a purple pajama set that has to be at least two sizes too big for him. The shoulder is slipping off him and the pant legs pool around his ankles. His blond hair is sticking up in every direction that he can dream off. From the smirk on Natasha’s face, Steve has a good idea of how it has gotten that way. 

 

“Merry Christmas,” Natasha purrs while Clint rubs his eyes and wonders into the kitchen, likely in search of a pot of coffee. “I’d ask if you slept well, but I’m not sure it matters.”

 

Steve chuckles, his arms full to over flowing of Bucky and Misha. “When Bucky is cuddly there is no stopping him. Besides, I’m a heater, so I don’t mind.”

 

Natasha nods, but her eyes are too dark to be light hearted. “I was really worried about him last night. I’m glad he’s okay.”

 

“Thank you, Natasha.” Steve’s voice is soft with urgency, knowing that Natasha likely kept Bucky alive for the last few days. “You keep a good eye on him.”

 

“He needs it. He doesn't know when to stop. Then again, that is one of the things that you love about him.”

 

Steve smiles, his cheek finding a perch on top of Bucky’s dark head. “It is. It’s also one of the things that worries me so much about  him.”

 

There’s a clatter rising from the kitchen and Natasha smiles in fond exasperation. “I better go stop him before he starts drinking from the pot again.”

 

She’s barely left before there’s stirring in Steve’s lap. “Um,” Bucky hums without opening his eyes. “Coffee.”

 

Steve chuckles and kisses the top of Bucky’s fragrant hair. “If you want something then I’d say it's time to wake up.”

 

“Don’t wanna.” Bucky groans, but smiles. “Go get some for me?”

 

Bucky adds the puppy eyes that usually makes Steve want to do everything for him. There is nothing so cute as Bucky acting like a dork, but oh, Steve loves his dork. “Tough luck, pal. You’re both on top of me. My legs have been asleep since five o’clock this morning and I really gotta take a piss.”

 

“Fuck you.” Bucky’s laugh and as he stretches, he nearly topples to the ground. They laugh as Misha protests on their laps. “Sorry, sweetheart. You ready to get up?”

 

Misha nods and holds up his hands to be picked up. Bucky grabs him, and then stands up himself. Steve hobbles to his feet, yelping in pain as the blood floods back into his legs. “Fuck you, Bucky, this fucking hurts.”

 

“Fuck you, you fucking furnace.”

 

“How was the first word your kid learned not fuck?” Clint snickers as he walks into living room, cup of coffee in his hand. “Merry Fucking Christmas, everybody!”

 

“You’re a bitch, Clint.” Bucky dead pans. “Misha is honest and sweet and would never follow in his bad father's foot steps.”

 

“Papa.” Misha giggles. “Presents!”

 

“Oh, god,” Bucky groans “Not everything in Christmas is about presents.”

 

Misha pouts, his eyes big and just a tad wet. Bucky rushes to pick him up and hold him tightly against his chest. “I’m sorry, принц. That was mean. We’ll do presents after breakfast, okay?”

 

Misha sighs heavily, but nods and curls into Bucky’s chest. Steve snickers and catches Bucky’s confused eyes. “I think our son just played you.”

 

Bucky shakes his head and kisses the boy's forehead. “Your Daddy is thinking you’re an evil boy. That’s not very nice of him.”

 

Misha blows a raspberry at his Daddy, which has the entire room enveloped in laughter. Steve throws both arms around his boys and holds them tightly enough that the cold air ceases to matter. 

 

Breakfast is the typical chaotic affair with all the Avengers and Co. gathered around every open space in the kitchen because, as Clint said, no one eats in a dining room. Pepper shares a chair with Tony, Clint sits on a counter with Natasha between his knees and Lucky at their feet. There’s laughter and a good deal of shouting while the first presents of the day are shown off. 

 

Misha is nearly vibrating with excitement when they all finally relocate to the living room and he’s presented with his piles of presents. Their son is absolutely spoiled beyond reason by his family. Steve can’t imagine that it will be any different with Pepper and Tony’s baby next year. 

 

Bucky nuzzles his ear after everything is open. “I’ve got your present. I’ll give it to you later.”

 

“I look forward to it.” Steve gets a little caught up in their kiss and doesn’t realize that Clint has stood up to his feet and is shoving coats, jackets, and scarves at everyone. “Come on. I wanna try sleilding on the shield.”

 

“You do remember your girlfriend and I nearly froze last night right?”

 

Clint shrugs. “She’s fine. Are you saying you’re not, Bucky Bear?”

 

“Fuck you, princess.”

 

Steve laughs and gathers Misha up. “Do you wanna go watch Uncle Clint beat your Papa’s butt?”

 

“Think you got that wrong there, pal.” Bucky grabs his coat, all steely gaze and a cocky smirk. “I’m the best at shielding.”

 

Behind Clint’s house is a hill with a gentle slope that they all trudge up. It isn’t an Alpine Mountain, but that also meant that he didn’t have to worry about Bucky doing something crazy with his shield and breaking his ass. Since they had Misha with them as well it’s, likely better this way. 

 

Still Bucky grins, nearly vibrating with excitement when they get to the top. Steve plops his shield star side down on the snow and takes Misha from Bucky’s arms.

 

Tony claps his hands together, bouncing with glee. “Alright, I’m ready for someone to prove to me that you can sled with the shield.”

 

“Watch and weep, genius.” Bucky sits cross legged in the shield. It rocks a little before settling. Steve doesn’t remember Bucky’s knees nearly touching the edges of the shield the last time they’d done this, but then Bucky is bigger than he was in 1944. 

 

Steve can’t help blanching when Bucky reaches up for their son. “Come on, Misha. You ready for a little fun?”

 

Steve has never withheld Misha from Bucky. He never wants Bucky to think that he doesn’t trust him with their son, but he can’t help remembering Bucky falling off the shield and skidding down the mountain side. He’d nearly broken something when he did that, even if the Howlies had howled with laughter. 

 

In the here and now,Bucky sighs and opens up his arms. “Steve, I’m not stupid. I’m not going to let anything happen to him. I know I’ve been reckless, but not with him.”

 

Steve sighs, knowing that Bucky is telling the truth, but wanting and needing to let go are two different things. He crouches next to Bucky, and Misha reaches for the brunette. Steve lets him go and stops breathing in the process. He doesn’t know what's gotten into him or why seeing Misha sitting between Bucky’s knees is causing him to sweat under his sweater (it's an ugly Avengers Christmas Sweater that Tony had thought was hilarious. There were already pictures on the Avengers Instagram.)  

 

Bucky grabs the front of his sweater and pulls him forward till he can press his lips against Steve’s. The Captain melts as soon they make contact as one of his hands wind around Bucky’s neck to keep him close. 

 

Bucky doesn’t kiss him for long before pulling away to gently slide his fingertips down Steve’s cheeks. “I scared you, didn’t I?”

 

Steve nods, his bangs getting tangled up with Bucky’s darker hair. He hides his face in Bucky’s, hating how weak this makes him feel. He trusts Bucky with his life, with Misha’s life, but Bucky had scared him the night before.  “You and Nat nearly died last night, Buck.”

 

“It wasn’t that bad.” Steve rolls his eyes and opens his mouth to argue, but Bucky talks over him. “It wasn’t, Steve. Yeah, it was dangerous. Yeah, I wrecked on of the bikes. Yeah, I shouldn’t have drug Natasha through it, but I wouldn’t have done it if Misha had been with me. The only reason I did was because you were here and I was in New York. I wasn’t gonna handle it, so I fixed it. It was stupid, but I’d never do it with you or Misha.”

 

“You’re an idiot, Bucky.” Steve rebukes with a soft smile. “And you still scared me.”

 

“I won’t do it again?” Bucky offers with a cheeky grin.

 

Steve slaps his shoulder and chuckles. “I love you, Bucky.”

 

“You too, Stevie. Now give us a push.” Bucky’s smile is infectious, sweet, and full of enthusiasm. Steve snickers and makes sure Bucky has a good grip on Misha before giving his shield a good shove and watches it speed down the hill.

 

It doesn’t go too fast, the hill doesn’t have that grand a slope, but Bucky whoops and hollers anyway, and Steve can hear Misha giggling underneath it all. A warm smile spreads across Steve’s face as he races down after them. 


	11. Wonderful Christmastime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, new plan! I am going to post something everything Friday. Either in this series or another story I've been working. You guys have full permission to yell at me if I miss a Friday. I encourage it even!

**Chapter Eleven**

**Wonderful Christmastime**

  
  


“Steve?” Bucky plasters himself against Steve’s back, lips teasing his ear and arms tightening around his waist. Even through the obnoxious sweater, Bucky can feel Steve’s heat and he’s instantly craving more of it. “Stevie, pay attention to me.”

 

“Bucky,” he can practically hear the smile in Steve’s voice. “can I help you?”

 

“Misha is down for a nap.” Bucky lets his hands roam the front of Steve’s chest over the rough wool of his sweater. “And I haven't given you your christmas present yet.”

 

Steve’s chuckle spreads heat down Bucky’s spine. He lets his teeth make an appearance on Steve’s ear, just tugging enough make the blond’s breath stutter. “You know that doesn’t count as a present.”

 

“Please, Baby? You know how good I am. I promise I got you a real present, too.”

 

Steve sighs like he’s been asked to do the impossible. He does turn in Bucky’s embrace, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s neck and grinning. “Where are you going to talk about presents?”

 

“I might have a idea. If I’m not inconveniencing you.”

 

Steve leans in with a slow kiss. Just a hint of tongue and enough to have Bucky melting against Steve’s chest. Steve pulls away slowly, nuzzling his nose against Bucky’s and making the brunette go weak in the knees. Bucky grabs his hand and silently tows him outside to the barn where they won't be interrupted. 

 

Later, when they’re tangled together on top of a blanket and giggling at nothing, Steve starts reaching for his jeans. Bucky pouts and pushes him back down. “Not yet. I didn’t say I was done with you.”

 

Steve snickers and pinches Bucky’s side as he gets up. “I’m coming back, you idiot. I’m just getting your present.”

 

“I thought I already got that.” Bucky stretches, putting his arms behind his head and flexing in every way he knows Steve likes. He’s rewarded with Steve’s eyes widening as he watches. Bucky snickers and wishes he’d brought out a cigarette. 

 

“You’re a jerk.” Steve shakes his head, finally grabbing his jeans and pulling a tiny brightly wrapped package from the pocket. He drops the package onto Bucky’s chest as he settles next to him again. “And to think that I spent months on that”

 

“Months?” Bucky’s skeptical as he twists the thin present between his fingers. “Really?”

 

“Well, just since November.” Steve shrugs and kisses Bucky’s already swollen lips to hide the grin spreading across his face. “Go ahead and open it.”

 

Bucky doesn’t have to be told twice before he’s eagerly tearing into the wrapping paper like Misha had that morning. His eyebrows scrunch up when he uncovers a card just a little bit bigger than a business card. Flipping it over in his hands his eyes widen in shock. This side is covered in bright, miniscule brushstrokes. Bucky recognizes the picture instantly as a photo that had been taken over the summer of him, Steve, and Misha in Central Park. Only instead of the gloss and ink of a picture, it's been reinvited as Steve’s brushstrokes and paint, each tiny line placed with care and love that has Bucky choking up, his eyes burning and filling with tears, which he blinks away so as not impair the view he has of Steve’s art and Steve’s love. 

 

Steve clears his throat, uncomfortable in the sudden silence and begins babbling. “I thought you might like a peice of us to carry with you when you have to leave. We can get it sealed, but I wanted to make sure there wasn’t anything you wanted me to change first. If you don’t like it, then I can try again… “

 

Bucky shuts him up with a fierce kiss that pushes Steve back into the blanket they’ve spread out on the ground and crawling on top. He’s careful not to crush his present between his hands and Steve’s skin. Steve’s lips taste like joy and the sweet candy he’d shared with Misha earlier. 

 

Bucky marvels while kissing him that all has changed so much in year. It’s not just him and Steve in the picture anymore, it's him and Steve and Misha. Their days are filled the sound of their son's laughter and trips to the park. He feels whole in a way that he didn’t even realize was possible. Sure, it's hard some days, Misha is a year old and he’s as prone to bad days and temper tantrums as the rest of them. Bucky still wouldn’t trade this life for anything else. 

 

And that’s the best present he’s ever gotten.

 

* * *

 

“I’m telling you, no one is supposed to eat in the dining room.” Clint whines as Natasha pats his knee.

 

“Technically, you’re not eating in the dining room, sweetheart.” Bucky snickers, one arm around Misha who’s more playing than eating. “Cheer up.”

 

Clint scowls and mutters to himself although it's not a lie. Clint and Natasha are perched on the kitchen island, Pietro across from them on the counter. The others are all sharing seats and squeezed in around the table. For anyone else, it would have be crowded beyond belief, Bucky had had a momentary burst of claustrophobia, but for them is oddly cozy and different. Clint’s farmhouse is a quite a big change from the multiple levels of Avengers Tower they claimed. They didn't have to rub elbows there except in the training rooms. 

 

It’s nice. It reminds Bucky of crowded Christmas’ spent around the the Barnes’ kitchen table. His mother, god rest her soul, had always made sure they had something for Christmas. If she saw everything they had now she would probably die of shock. They would have never dreamed of this kind of wealth when they were growing up.

 

Steve nudges Bucky with his elbow, pulling the concern from his eyes. Bucky shrugs and smiles back. With Steve next to him and Misha in his lap, there isn't anything he would trade to not have this. It's too important, to precious, and everything he’s secretly always wanted. 

 

Pulled from his memories, he reengages with the here and now and the conversation flying around him. 

 

Jane, Darcy, and Sam are sharing Christmas traditions from their own families. It quickly becomes apparent that no one else had much to share. Wanda and Pietro had spent most of their childhood as homeless orphans or thralls of HYDRA. Steve and Bucky had grown up during the Great Depression. Thor didn’t even know what Christmas was until they told him. Bruce and Clint both came from broken families and Natasha was raised by the Red Room. About the most normal of them all was…

 

“Tony!” Clint exclaims as if he’s discovered the the secret to the universe. “Come on, you grew up rich. Please tell me you had all the toys that I wanted?”

 

The billionaire shrugs, and if Steve didn’t know any better he would think that he looks uncomfortable. “Honestly, I didn’t have a lot of toys, and what I did have came from Peggy, Angie, or Jarvis, so they weren’t expensive. I think Jarvis gave me my first bike.”

 

Steve and his attention is divided part of his mind on his and Tony’s conversation from the day before and another part on Peggy with her dark curls and red lips and a very young Tony. There’s a distant ache opening up in his chest, a hurt that’s well healed, but still present.

 

Bucky, as if he knows exactly what's going through Steve’s mind, smiles back at him and reaches with the hand not currently wrapped around their son. Steve sighs as Bucky’s fingers wrap around his own, forming an anchor to hold him back in place. Steve squeezes Bucky’s fingers in a silent thank you. 

 

“We should go see Pegs when we get back.” Tony says, breaking through his thoughts. “I haven’t been in a while.”

 

“We’ll go,” Steve agrees. Going to see Peggy always feels bittersweet. She really doesn’t remember much anymore, and it hurt to watch her laying in bed when she used to be so vibrant. Still he would go.

 

Once again, Bucky pulls him from his thoughts. He brings Steve’s palm to his lips. Misha adds his own smile and reaches for him with gummy fingers. Steve pulls him from Bucky’s lap, feeling his reassuring weight on his arm. Sure the future he didn’t get hurts sometimes, but he wouldn’t trade his present for anything in the world.

  
  


That night finds them both squeezed on to the couch. Misha is asleep on their chest and bathed in the multicolored lights from the Christmas tree. They have no idea where the rest of their family has gone and they don’t really care either. They are all big boys and girls. They can take care of themselves. For now it’s just the three of them in the quiet of a Christmas night, their first as a family.

 

Steve can’t help playing with Bucky’s hair as the man pretends to sleep. Steve knows he’s pretending because there’s a smile on his face and Bucky never smiles like that in his sleep. 

 

“Shut up, punk.” Bucky mutters without opening his eyes.

 

“I didn’t say anything.”

 

“You were thinking I was adorable or some shit.” Bucky cracks one eye open to glare playfully up at him. “Don’t lie. I know you. I can read your mind.”

 

Steve snorts, then nuzzles into Bucky’s soft brown hair. “That’s probably fair enough. We’ve been together long enough that we should know what the other is thinking by now.”

 

Bucky laughs and leans into Steve’s chest. Steve can’t resist a kiss against Bucky’s forehead just in reach. If He catches sight of Bucky’s lips quirking up in a smile, well, he does his best not to think about it at all. 

 

The silence drifts back into the room. Steve can listen to Bucky and Misha breathe for hours uninterrupted and be completely content. Just to know that they’re both with him and okay is enough to make Steve breath easy.

 

“We should go upstairs and pack.” Bucky finally muttered, though he makes no move to follow his own instruction. 

 

“We don’t have to leave tomorrow.” Steve can’t resist tangling his fingers into Bucky’s dark hair and watching the indulgent smile grow on Bucky’s face. “Clint said we can stay as long as we like. We just have to be back in New York for Tony’s New Year’s Party.”

 

Bucky’s hums and for a moment, Steve thinks he isn’t going to answer, but then he shrugs. “I kinda just wanna be home. Not that I don’t like our family, but just” Bucky lifts his head to share his devilish smirk with Steve. “I can’t quite do the things that I want to do to you here, know what I mean, Stevie?”

 

“You’re a perv.” Steve counts it as a Christmas miracle that he’s able to keep a straight face. 

 

Bucky snickers. “I don’t see you complaining.”

 

“And you won’t.” Steve smiles and leans forward just enough to claim Bucky’s lips with his own. “If we’re leaving in the morning then we really should go pack.”

 

Bucky shrugs, burrowing down into a portion of Steve’s chest not taken up by their sleeping son. “In a little bit. I don’t wanna move right now.”

 

Steve chuckles, but doesn’t complain even when Bucky’s soft breathing soon evens out into the occasional snore. They’re both alive and close. They’re son is happy, healthy, and growing like a weed. There’s really isn’t anything else Steve needs. He drags a blanket from the back of the couch over them and wraps them up tight in his arms. 

  
After all, what else is Christmas about then the comfort of your family? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just the epilogue left now. That will be either next Friday or the Friday after. See you then!


	12. Epilogue: Auld Lang Syne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! We finished it! I'm so sorry this too so long. Much love to everyone who commented, left kudos, and MyHerion and Angelycdevil. I don't thank you guys enough.

**Epilogue**

**Auld Lang Syne**

 

Bucky knows the grin on his face is too big and too thrilled, but he doesn’t care either. He gets to be proud. He wants to be proud. Steve’s face is a mirror of his own he’s sure and that is all he can think about on the elevator ride up to the roof penthouse. 

 

The first person they see in the crowded penthouse is Sam and their grins grew bigger. “Stay right there.” Steve says quickly when Sam is still a foot or so away from them. Then Steve crouches and carefully places Misha on his feet. “Go see Uncle Sam. You ready?”

 

Bucky holds his breath as Steve lets their son go. With tottering, unstable steps he slowly walks toward Sam, grinning all the while. Sam’s eyes are wide with shock as he crouches and holds his hands out for the boy. Bucky doesn’t realize that most of the room is now watching their miracle. He’s only got eyes for Misha as his heart hammers and fingers cross behind his back. 

 

Then, just a minutes after it started, Misha is stumbling into Sam’s arms and there’s a cheer from their crowd. The Avengers know how worried Bucky and Steve are that Misha wasn’t walking and it was appropriate that they’d all gotten to witness the results. 

 

Bucky breathes a sigh of relief and moves with Steve to praise Misha from his perch in Sam’s arms. Sam grins at them, the shock in his eyes mirroring their own. “When did this start?”

 

“Just now down stairs,” Steve replies breathless. “We were playing blocks, and Bucky had one he wanted. So I stood him up and he took off.”

 

“Told you he would when he was ready.” Sam looks smug as he kisses Misha’s cheek. Bucky can’t fault him in the least. Misha decided to walk three hours before the ball dropped. He certainly had an idea for the theatrics, Bucky chuckles to himself. 

 

Where Christmas had been a small quiet affair with just the Avengers and their family, The New Year's party is a much bigger thing. Tony’s penthouse is full of people, most of whom Bucky recognizes. Tony’s party is evidently one of the hottest tickets in town. Even with the crowd, Bucky isn’t the least bit worried to see Sam disappear with his son. There’s still plenty of Avengers around to make sure he’s safe. 

 

Steve and Bucky wander around the crowd for a while, stopped often and frequently by people wanting a word. Steve gets sick of it pretty quickly and retreats to a corner with Clint and Nat. Bucky, who has always been a people person, stays out much later enjoying the atmosphere, the people, and the laughter. 

 

It’s a few hours later, and he’s somehow found himself in the middle of the threeway science argument, when he feels a warm hand wrap around his elbow, pulling him back and around. 

 

“Look over there.” Steve says, pointing toward the bank of windows that look out over Manhattan and Times Square. There’s a moment where Bucky stares in confusion, before breaking out in a huge smile. 

 

“Matt!” he exclaims in excitement, rushing forward in his enthusiasm and forgetting that he should announce his presence better. Instead, he’s pulling the lanky, dark haired man into a tight hug. There’s a chuckle or two before Bucky is releasing the lawyer with a chuckle. “Sorry, man, long time, no see.”

 

“That’s all right.” Matt Murdock chuckles in shock, but smiles all the same. Foggy gets the same enthusiastic greeting along with with Claire and Karen, before Bucky is chatting up a storm with the soft spoken lawyer. Bucky wants to know how business is, both on and off the books. Claire and Foggy are quick to jump in with Daredeviling details that Matt seems less willing to share. 

 

If Bucky is being honest, and on this subject he always is, everything he has now—the Avengers, Steve, Misha, his freedom—is owed back to Matt Murdock. When Bucky had first home, the government had been quick to pin all of Hydra’s modern atrocities on him. Bucky, at the time, had been willing to let them. In his state of mind, he’d been he thought it was due punishment, even if he was going to get the lethal injection for it. 

 

Steve, as always, had been the first to fight and he’d recruited the best person to fight with him. Matt Murdock was a small time lawyer from Hell’s Kitchen, but he and his partner had a reputation for taking cases that no one else would. That he was also a vigilante known as Daredevil, remained between Steve and Bucky. Matt had crafted a defense that forced the jury to see the Winter Soldier's humanity and the things done to him, before the things he did. Bucky still thought it was a miracle that he’d gotten free. That meant Matt Murdock had earned himself a friend for life.

 

It had been a while since Bucky had seen him. They’d both been busy and he was looking forward to catching up. Steve stayed, his arm a comfortable weight around Bucky’s waist. He still can’t help being relieved just a little bit when Sam appears with Misha, who eagerly reaches for Steve. 

 

“See? I told you they were here,” Sam says as he hands the boy over. “I think he’s getting a little restless.”

 

“He’s tired.” Steve explains as Misha lays his head on his shoulder. Steve and Bucky unconsciously pull back at that moment, toward the windows where they’ve been left some space. Sam took their place with Matt, and was soon flirting with Claire. 

 

“How long do you give it?” Bucky asks, nodding to their friend.

 

“First date? A week.”

 

“Nah, too soon. He’s gonna have to win Claire over. She wouldn’t go out with Matt, remember? I give it two months.”

 

“Sam’s a very persuasive guy.” 

 

“Something I should know about there, Steve?”

 

“No, you stupid lump. I was always too hung up on you.” Steve laughs, until Misha humps with displeasure. “Ten bucks?”

 

“You gotta deal. I’d shake your hand, but…”

 

“Yeah, they’re kinda full.” Bucky smiles at the nearly sleeping boy in Steve’s arms. His thumb is in his mouth and his blue eyes blinking slowly as he lays his head close to Steve’s neck. Bucky chuckles and kisses Misha’s cheek. “Yeah, that's my favorite pillow too, принц.”

 

They count down the ball dropping with the rest of the room, watching through the windows as the ball slides down, ringing in a brand new year. Steve and Bucky both lay kisses on Misha’s cheeks before finding each other's lips. 

 

It's a great way to spend the first ten seconds of the year. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS NOT THE END! Just go to the series and hit the subscribe button to notified when I post the next part. (Which should be Friday after next.) Again thanks for reading everybody!

**Author's Note:**

> Come play with me on [Tumblr](http://everydaybella.tumblr.com/)!


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